Damage Control
by momothelemur
Summary: Emma has questions, Hook has answers. The balance of power shifts from second to second and each of them need wits as sharp as their tongues in order to stay ahead. "Why are you here? You obviously don't consider me a threat." There was a dark, underlying 'more fool you' hint to his smooth tone. "And I wouldn't flatter myself into assuming you came to oversee my recovery."
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

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**A/N:**

**I wrote this a couple of days before the 'Captain Swan at the hospital' sneak peek came out. There are a couple of similarities between this fic and the sneak peek, but they're just coincidences. I'm going my own way with Injured!Hook. Hope you enjoy, a review would be very much appreciated!**

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He looked like hell.

Bruises and cuts marred almost every inch of visible skin and a clean white cast elevated his currently useless ankle. Emma couldn't tell if the purple shadows under his eyes were bruises or a punishment from too many restless nights.

She had seen a great many injured people in her time - and had been the cause of quite a few of them - but there was something unnatural about this scene. There was no reconciling this pale, drawn figure with the infamous Captain Hook.

But this wasn't the time to go soft. Emma had questions, Hook had answers. She wasn't about to let a small thing like his unconsciousness get in the way of that.

"Hook."

Her voice was scratchy and small in the private room. She cleared her throat and tried again, debating the merits of slapping him across the face in the name of waking him up. Hook roused the third time she said his name. His forehead creased - in what? Pain? Annoyance? - and he squinted his eyes open against the harsh hospital lights.

Hook blinked, adjusting to the light, and shifted his head to the side. For a few moments after he noticed Emma, his expression was unguarded. Emma saw confusion, suspicion and optimism fight for dominance before he remembered himself and let a mask of indifference take over. She hoped her own emotions weren't so easy to decipher.

Hook tried to lift himself into a sitting position, only to be weighed down by the handcuffs around his left wrist that trapped him to the bed. The dull clank of metal on metal made him look down and, with dawning comprehension, he smiled bitterly.

"This seems to be a theme with you, love," he said, testing the limits of the handcuffs.

Emma ignored how weak his voice sounded. There was still bite behind his words, even if he didn't have the energy to convey it.

"Actually, this time it wasn't my idea," she replied, her own voice low and controlled. She didn't want to draw attention to the room until she had her answers.

Hook, unconcerned as ever with subtlety, clanged the cuffs against the side of his hospital bed again. The metallic echo was jarring.

"Learning to trust, are you? Better late than never, I suppose, although-"

"I didn't think the cuffs were necessary," Emma interrupted. At Hook's raised eyebrow, she nodded to the bottom of the bed. "Good luck escaping here with a fractured ankle."

Hook lowered the handcuffs and glanced down at his plaster-clad leg as though it was only a mild annoyance.

"Ah, yes. That does complicate things."

After a further moment of contemplation, he settled back down and rested his head against the pillow, leaving Emma standing uncertainly across the room Either Hook had been subjected to an obscene amount of morphine, or he was genuinely apathetic about his brush with death. Emma wasn't sure which unnerved her more.

"Where's my hook?"

Emma gave a non-committal shrug.

"It's safe."

Hook's lips thinned. "I'll be needing it back, lass."

"Sure. Just as soon as I'm satisfied that you're not going to impale anyone."

A second after she said it, Emma realised the potential for innuendo. She braced herself for a suggestive comment, and even formed a scathing reply, but the only indication that Hook had even heard her was in the slight lift of his lips.

Something was wrong with him that extended beyond his broken body. Emma knew this, and though a small part of her was intrigued, she knew she had only gone to the hospital because the people she loved could be in danger from Cora. If Hook knew where she was, Emma would find out. She didn't have time to deal with a pirate Captain having an existential crisis. After a quick scan of the empty outside corridor, Emma shifted into Sheriff mode.

"You remember what happened?"

Hook's smile, directed at the tiles on the ceiling, was a good imitation of pleasant.

"Yes, I fractured my ankle."

Emma's stoicism went from maintained to forced. She had known that Hook would not be forthcoming with his information but she had hoped - wrongly - that if she had segued into it, he might have been more willing to help. Still, she couldn't afford to lose her cool in front of him. If he thought he had any kind of advantage over her, he would take it without hesitation.

"You were hit by a car," she said. "The driver's in hospital, too."

The news doesn't faze Hook.

"That's why transportation in my world is vastly superior. You've never heard of anyone getting knocked down by a speeding ship. Well, I might have hit a mermaid once or twice…"

He trailed off with a smile that might have rueful if Emma hadn't known better. She found herself wishing for a time when mermaids weren't commonplace discussions.

A spasm of pain caused Hook to wince almost imperceptibly. Emma frowned at his visible wounds and wondered if she should get a doctor, just in case Hook passed out before giving her the information she needed.

Hook mistook her lingering gaze for something else and smiled. It was amazing how a simple twitch of the lips could seem so suggestive.

"Enjoying the view?" When Emma didn't answer, his soft tone hardened. "Reckon I'm a picture right now."

"Yeah, well. The car crash aside, Gold hit you pretty hard."

Hook raised an eyebrow.

"Heard about that, did you?"

There was a wry note in his voice and Emma wondered how he could be so casual after an entire day of getting the ever-loving crap knocked out of him.

"I had to take a statement from him. From a few people, actually. A shooting and a car crash in the same day is a pretty big news, even in Storybrooke."

Instead of replying, Hook simply watched Emma for a moment, waiting for the rebuke he knew was coming. Emma, reading him as well as ever, shook her head.

"It isn't me you'll have to answer to for hurting Belle,"

It was meant as a softly spoken truth and not a threat but Hook made a soft noise of disbelief.

"Thought you were supposed to be the sheriff. Interesting form of justice you dispense."

Emma scoffed. "Look who's talking."

The thin ice they had been dancing on cracked with those words. Hook's jaw tightened.

"Why are you here? You obviously don't consider me a threat." There was a dark, underlying _more fool you_ hint to his smooth tone. "And I wouldn't flatter myself into assuming you came to enquire about my recovery."

Emma steeled herself.

"I need to know where Cora is."

Hook's bitter smile made a brief return. Emma didn't want to think about the reasons why.

"I would assume she's in the middle of an emotional reunion with her daughter. Well, probably not 'emotional', it _is_ Cora, after all."

"But where?" Emma pressed.

"I don't know. I'm not lying," he added when he saw Emma's expression. "Cora got me to Storybrooke and then we went our separate ways."

"Straight away?"

There was a challenge in her voice and Emma waited to see if he would lie to her. Even after everything, she wasn't sure if he would choose to tell her an untruth over being candid.

"No," was Hook's - and Emma's - answer. "She stayed long enough to gift me with a cricket. Chirpy little chap."

He scanned Emma's face to see if his words were having any impact. She remained impassive.

"Why did you hold Archie captive?"

Hook shrugged as best he could, given his position.

"I've been told I have a great many issues. Thought it was time to talk them through with a professional."

Emma didn't crack a smile. "Cora didn't tell you where she might have gone?"

"Wherever Regina is, Cora won't be far behind. Just find Regina -" Hook bit his lip in an imitation of worry. "Oh, but, wait…you burned that bridge when you accused her of murdering the cricket. No judgement there, by the way. I would have assumed the same. People only ever change for the worse."

There was a weary defiance in his eyes when he looked at her; he would argue his corner for as long as possible even though he would rather not. The unguarded moment left Emma at a loss as to what to say next. She repaid honesty with honesty, letting the fear that knotted her stomach bleed into her tone.

"Hook, if Cora wants to get to Regina, she might hurt Henry to do it."

Hook's expression softened into the picture of sincerity.

"And for that, love, I am truly sorry."

They remained at that impasse until the door banged open. David came charging in, unaware that Emma had instinctively reached for the gun she had brought along.

"Emma, we need you to…" David trailed off when he noticed Hook. "You're awake."

"Observant," Hook noted, back to his arrogant best. He flicked through his personas with practiced ease. "Good trait to have when you rule a kingdom."

David opened his mouth in what was sure to be a poorly thought out retort, only to be interrupted by his daughter.

"What is it, David?"

David cast another suspicious glance at the bedridden pirate. Hook held his stare unflinchingly.

"Sheriff business," was all the Prince said. He turned to Emma. "We need you in the other room."

Emma nodded and slowly drew her hand away from her gun. David strode away without so much as a glance backwards and Emma turned her attention back to Hook.

"I'll be back," she warned him.

He gave her a lazy smile that told her he was the furthest thing from vulnerable, no matter what his broken body suggested.

"Bring some flowers next time, would you, darling?" Emma gave him a distinct _look_ before leaving and closing the door behind her, leaving the next of Hook's parting remark hanging in silence: "Remind me that you care."


	2. Chapter Two

******Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis**

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**A/N: I wanted to get this chapter out as quickly as possible and as a result things may be less-than-stellar. I'll go over things tomorrow and clean bits up. Thank you so very much for your reviews/favourites/follows, they mean a great deal. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next episode of Once!**

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No matter how bad things seemed, they could always be worse. Emma reflected on this as she drained a truly awful cup of coffee and threw it aside into the trash. She wondered if serving bad coffee was a misguided act of kindness from the hospital; _here, take your mind off your injured/dying/dead friend/family/loved one for a few moments with the worst thing you__'__ve ever tasted. You__'__re welcome._

Coffee from a hospital vending machine was never going to win any awards, though it was a testament to Emma's need for distraction that she was already onto her fourth cup. Mary Margaret's shift was over in a few minutes and then it would be Emma's turn to watch over the stranger in case he woke up. Four hour shifts had been the agreement but now Emma dreaded such a long time in such a quiet, empty place. Despite years spent alone, her thoughts had never made for good company.

Heeled footsteps echoed along the corridor in what seemed to be the only sound in the whole hospital. Emma stood up as Mary Margaret approached, looking as exhausted as Emma felt.

"Hey," she greeted her mother. "Any change?"

"None." Mary Margaret stifled a yawn. "The stranger's still out cold."

"You're not that far behind him." A quick glance at the clock told Emma it was approaching three a.m. "Go home, get some sleep."

Mary Margaret frowned. There was still ten minutes until the end of her shift and Emma knew the Princess would want to complete them.

"But what about you?"

Emma shrugged. "What about me? I slept while you kept watch and I've had coffee."

Mary Margaret nodded slowly and then, with a slight laugh, said, "I could use some coffee."

"Not this coffee. Do yourself a favour and stop off at Granny's later if you still need a fix."

After a brief hug, Mary Margaret made to leave. Emma stopped her with a light touch on the shoulder.

"Did you check in on Hook?"

"He was asleep. Or pretending to be, I don't know." Mary Margaret frowned and then shook her head. "I don't like that he's here, Emma."

"I'm more worried about Cora," Emma replied with a grimace. "Have you heard from David?"

"Yes." Mary Margaret understood her child's worry and smiled. "Henry's fine, don't worry. He's fast asleep."

"Good. I don't want to bring him into all of this but then I don't want to let him out of my sight for too long." Emma tried for a smile. "Do they have a nursery here or something? Could I just drop him off in a playpen for a few hours?"

Mary Margaret didn't laugh. She saw through Emma's bravado and into the worry that warped her daughter's stomach. She laid a comforting hand on Emma's arm and gave her best _trust me, I__'__m your mother _look.

"We won't let anything happen to him."

Emma was grateful for the promise but not naïve enough to know that it was so easily fulfilled.

"I'm going to ask Gold if there's any protective magic he can do."

Mary Margaret's alarm was obvious before she even opened her mouth.

"Oh, Emma-"

"It could be our only chance," Emma insisted. "Cora was toying with us the last time we saw her and we still nearly got our asses handed to us. If she decides to actually fight, we don't stand a chance."

This was difficult to argue against, though Mary Margaret still tried.

"But…Rumplestiltskin? You don't want to make anymore deals with him."

"If it saves Henry, yes I do."

Mary Margaret knew that look of determination. She had seen it reflected in the mirror and in the eyes of her husband and knew that Emma would not be moved.

"We'll talk about it later," she said, conceding for now. "David will be here at seven to take over your shift. If the stranger wakes up -"

"I'll call," Emma promised, tapping the cell phone in her pocket. "Get some rest."

Mary Margaret held her daughter in a tight hug before bidding her goodbye.

Emma listened to her footsteps fading away and sighed. Despite her assurances to Mary Margaret, she had hardly slept. She had a hundred questions that doubtless had a hundred answers she would not like. Things were changing too quickly and Emma couldn't keep pace.

But, things could be worse. She paid for another coffee from the machine and set off to check on the stranger.

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If Hook had looked bad, this stranger looked worse. Though he didn't have as many outward lacerations as the pirate captain (no doubt because he had managed to avoid Rumplestiltskin's wrath) he was surrounded by wires and machines that beeped his health periodically. The man looked so small next to the machinery, like a child sleeping amongst robots.

Emma could only peer through the window of his room; she didn't want to go inside in case she tripped over anything. The machines would let her know if something was wrong.

She took her place in the hard plastic chair placed outside the door and lost herself in musings. She had faced ogres and witches and dragons and emerged without a scratch. This man had lost control for a brief second and it might very well cost him his life. For all the residents of Storybrooke talked of destiny, Emma wondered what made her more deserving of survival than any of those who had fallen around her.

But best not to go down that path. Survivor's guilt was deadly and she couldn't afford to indulge in it right now. She went back to the all-consuming fear she felt for Henry now that Regina and Cora were reunited.

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An hour later, Emma had worked up the courage to get another cup of coffee. The automatic corridor lights flickered on as she passed under them, shining everything into a stark existence. She would glance into a room every so often, only for curtains to impede her view. Not once did she see a nurse and she wasn't sure if she should commend the stealthy staff or be worried that they apparently did not exist.

On her way back from the coffee machine, hot cup in hand, Emma took a different route and passed Hook's room. She did her usual check but had to pause when she realised she could see directly into the room. The curtains that should be drawn across were hanging at either side of the window.

It seemed security was not high on the priority list, Emma noted in irritation. If Gold or Cora came looking for Hook, they wouldn't even have to expend the trouble of going room to room. Why hadn't Mary Margaret closed the curtains when she had checked in on him? It didn't really matter, Emma supposed, but it meant that she had to take the task upon herself. Without so much as a question of her motives, she moved forward.

The door opened with a soft click that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the otherwise silent morning. With the coffee in her hand, Emma would have to drag one curtain across at a time. She reached over, glad that she had the light from the corridor outside to help her see.

"Sneaking into my room in the early hours? Careful, love, a man might get ideas."

Emma nearly yanked the curtains down from their hangings in her shock. She held back a curse; she should have checked to see if Hook was awake. Had she known he was, she would have walked right on by. Fist still clenched around the thin material, she steadied her heartbeat before turning around. Instead of lying flat, Hook's bed was elevated into a reclining position. From the outside light, Emma could just about make out his features. She cleared her throat.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"And the ideas continue to form." When Emma turned back to close the curtains, Hook spoke again. His voice was only just stronger than it had been during their last meeting. "You didn't wake me. I couldn't sleep."

Between the light from the corridor and the awkward angle of his bed, Emma wasn't surprised. Still, she was not about to offer to adjust the bed to a more comfortable position; even if she wanted to, she would never hear the end of the string of suggestive comments about other comfortable positions.

"I'll tell Doctor Whale to up your meds. You'll be asleep for days."

Emma couldn't pretend that she didn't slightly relish the thought.

"I'm used to sleeping in a cabin on the sea," Hook continued, as though Emma hadn't spoken at all. "A hospital room is too…stationary for my liking."

Emma was sceptical, not least of Hook's newfound desire to be civil.

"You need rocking motions to help you sleep?"

Even in the dimness, Emma knew that Hook had quirked his lips upwards. She sighed.

"Rocking motions of _the ship_, Hook. The ship."

Hook made a soft, amused noise and Emma's patience waned. It was either too late in the night or too early in the day to deal with this. She drew the curtains closed, shutting out most of the light from the corridor in the process, and edged her way over to the exit.

"Oh, not going to stay for a chat?"

Hook's mock-disappointment only hastened Emma's trip to the door.

"Go to sleep."

"Not even if we chatted about Cora?"

Emma's hand paused on the door handle. "You told me you didn't know where she is."

"And I don't. But between heart-stealing and swordfights, we had the opportunity to discuss motivations. Now, I'm a man of simple desires. I wanted to take my revenge against the Crocodile and I have, for now. But Cora…"

Emma closed her eyes briefly and prayed for strength. It was likely that Hook didn't have any useful knowledge, but she couldn't take the chance of ignoring him just in case he did know something. She took her hand away from the door and pressed the light switch. When the room burst into sudden brightness, Emma was prepared.

"Fine," she said, straining not to blink as her eyes adjusted. "You want to talk? Talk."

Hook was less prepared.

"Bloody hell, love," he complained. "I'm in a delicate state. Give me some warning next time."

"Talk," Emma repeated firmly.

Hook's eyes narrowed slightly in thoughtfulness. Emma understood - and dreaded - that look. It meant that he knew he had the upper hand in their interaction now; he was the one with the knowledge, powerful despite his broken bones and captivity.

"Come to think of it," Hook said slowly while Emma braced herself, "I could use a drink."

His eyes strayed to the cup in Emma's hand and lifted up to meet her own gaze. The hint was as subtle as an anvil but it did its job.

"This? You wouldn't like…" Emma stopped herself and shrugged. Dreadful coffee would serve Hook right. She walked over to the bed and held out the cardboard cup so that it nudged the fingers on his hand. "Alright. Go ahead."

Hook made no move to reach for it. If anything, he moved his hand away before nodding to the handcuffs.

"I'm a little tied down at the moment, love," he said with a regretful smile that there wasn't a chance in hell he actually meant. "You'll have to help."

"I'm not taking the cuffs off," Emma said, taking a step back and regarding him with a bemused expression. Had he really expected that to work?

"Well then, we'll just have to think of another way."

Emma was fairly certain from his low, insinuating voice that Hook has already thought of this other way. Sure enough, a moment later he tipped his head back and parted his lips slightly, all the while maintaining a steady eye contact.

Emma blinked.

"You're kidding."

Hook's smile told her he was completely serious. Emma scowled.

"You think I'm just here to play games? I have people who actually need my help. I need to talk to Belle and the stranger-"

"Really?" Hook interrupted, a hint of victory gleaming in his eyes. "Because I overheard your mother and father speaking in the corridor before and it seems that the stranger is still unconscious and Belle's as clueless as a newborn lamb. I'm not suggesting that you already knew that-"

"Oh, I already knew," Emma assured him, bitter at her defeat. "I just wanted the excuse to leave."

Hook smiled again. "The drink, darling."

Emma was so very glad that the hospital's coffee was almost unpalatable. She angled the cup, brought it to Hook's lips upon his request, and tried to resist drowning him. Hook's smug look quickly turned to disgust as the drink trickled down his throat. Emma, satisfied, took the cup away.

"Why would you punish yourself by drinking that?" he asked, still frowning at the taste.

"The punishment was having to pay for it. Tell me what you know about Cora."

Hook's grin held an edge to it. He enjoyed playing games, Emma knew, and was reluctant to return to business. When it became clear that Emma was in no joking mood, Hook dropped his mischief in favour of a more boring conversation.

"She wants to be reunited with her daughter," he said, his flat tone an indication of his taste for the topic. "Regina would be more…accepting…of her mother's affection if she had lost everything else, and Cora knew it."

Emma ignored the guilt that jabbed at her as she remembered Regina's desperation at being blamed for a crime she did not commit.

"Regina has a penchant for ripping out hearts," Hook continued. "And if she's anything like her mother, she will keep them in some sort of vault. You find the vault, doubtless you will find Regina with her tail between her legs."

Emma waited for a moment longer until it became clear that Hook had nothing more to say.

"That's it?" she asked, forgetting to keep her voice down in her annoyance. "Regina _probably _has a vault somewhere?"

"A vault of hearts and magic," Hook said, his own voice firm. It was rare that he offered help, and rarer still that this help was met with something other than gratitude. "Use your head, darling. Regina and Cora need a base from which to enact the plan they're probably concocting as we speak, and where better than-"

"Do you know where this vault is?"

Hook did not like to be interrupted and he liked Emma's tone even less. A calm anger stole over him, his eyes warning that just one more provocation would make Emma very sorry indeed. He took a moment before answering, ensuring that Emma understood what dangerous ground she walked on.

"Considering I was in Storybrooke for all of four days before being unceremoniously hospitalised, no, I don't know the intimate layout of your town." His voice was slow, deliberate, and as dangerous as a coiled snake. "Perhaps, as Sheriff, this would fall under your jurisdiction rather than mine?"

Emma was not taken in. She was annoyed at Hook for manipulating her need for information and she was even more annoyed at herself for falling for it. He was all seductive words and empty promises and if Emma wanted to find someone who would be useful in the fight against Cora, she would have to look outside of the hospital.

"Forget it," she muttered as she walked over to the door. "I'll go to Gold for help."

That got Hook's attention. Emma heard the handcuffs rattle as he tried to sit up.

"You would align yourself with the Crocodile?"

His mixture of incredulity and disgust raised Emma's defences again. It seemed everyone judged her for asking for Rumplestiltskin's help yet no one could offer any other practical form of advice.

"I would _align_ myself with whoever can keep my son safe!" The ferocity in her tone took them both by surprise. In the ringing silence that followed, Emma worked on lowering her voice. "Your issues with him have nothing to with me."

Hook's jaw was set.

"You can't trust him."

"I don't need to trust him. He doesn't break a deal and that's all I need."

Hook shook his head, a disbelieving smile playing on his features. Though his lips were lifted, his eyes were dark with anger.

"You don't know what it means to be indebted to a demon like him."

Emma could have laughed at the irony if the situation wasn't so desperate.

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea."

For the smallest of moments, Hook was confused. When he understood the implication of Emma's words, his forehead creased even further. He looked at Emma as though he didn't recognise her.

"Then you're selling your soul to him, piece by piece."

The idea that _Hook_ of all people judged her - whether he meant to or not - cut Emma deeply. Her methods may not have been spectacular but the results would speak for themselves. Who was Hook to question her? He had exploited every unsavoury opportunity he could in order to make it to Storybrooke. Hurt and angry, Emma reacted like she always did when she was in pain: she lashed out.

"At least I have a soul left to sell."

The words hung in the air like poison, growing more potent by the second. Did Emma believe that Hook was soulless? No. She had seen flickers of good in him, perhaps not enough to redeem him completely but enough to save him from sinking to Cora's depth of evil. Still, the remark had its intended effect; Hook had no more to say on the matter. After a few moments of eye contact, he was unable to even look at her. He settled back down into a reclining position, the smile he wore as forced as his disinterest in continuing the conversation.

Instead of the sharp, perceptive retort Emma had expected, Hook gave off an air of weary agreement. With the heavy sense that she had said something she would never be able to take back, Emma began to walk away. That, after all, was her second instinctive reaction to being hurt.

"David'll check on you in a couple of hours," she said as she reached the door, hesitating just before she opened it. She would not apologize for her words but the impact they had taken left her feeling uneasy. When no reply came, she knew that there was nothing left to say. She turned out the light and left.

Hook didn't call after her. Emma wasn't expecting him to.

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**Next chapter: Hook meets Henry.**


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

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**A/N: Stayed up late to finish this one. East Coasters will be getting the new episode in less than an hour, so let's all just sit back and embrace the envy. Thank you very much for your encouraging reviews/favourites/follows! Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

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It had been three days since Emma Swan had walked away and Hook was still trying to pretend he didn't care. Aside from the occasional drop-in from a suspicious Storybrooke resident or indifferent nurses, he had been left alone to dwell on his losses and his failings. By the third afternoon of almost-solitude, Hook had decided that it would have been kinder to let him die.

Then fate intervened. The door to Hook's room opened and a boy stood in the corridor, holding a large, weathered book in his grip. He glanced into the room, a little uncertain, before taking a few steps in. Hook watched him with no particular concern, although it did irk him that apparently he did not merit a lock on his door.

Usually, the only way Hook would subject himself to endless chatter from a child would be if he physically couldn't escape. Which, unfortunately, was exactly the predicament he found himself in.

The boy tilted his head and scanned Hook almost critically.

"Are you Captain Hook?"

Hook bristled at the curious disbelief in the boy's tone. He may have been a little indisposed at the moment but that didn't detract from his legend.

"I am," he said, trying and failing to adopt a more imperious position. He settled for just sitting up. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Henry."

And with that, the boy became infinitely more interesting. So _this _was the reason behind Emma's increasing desperation. Hook thought he would be taller.

"Henry. You're causing quite a stir."

Henry didn't answer, too busy letting his eyes linger on the space where the pirate's hook should be. What a disappointment he must be to the boy, Hook mused. Bedridden and without his namesake. Still, the boy had the grace to hang back.

"Does your mother know you're here?"

Henry hesitated for a moment too long. "Yes."

Lying to a pirate. The boy wasn't too bright. Hook raised an eyebrow.

"I can tell you're lying."

"You're like my mom," Henry said, his nose wrinkling.

Perhaps he was perceptive after all.

"Aye, lad, and more than she knows."

On closer inspection, the boy shared some of Emma's physical features and his face held more than a hint of his grandmother too. A genetically blessed family, if not one granted with an abundance of sense.

Henry sighed and hugged the book closer to his chest.

"Don't tell, okay? I just needed to get away from them. Can I hang out here for awhile?"

If it had been anyone else's son, Hook would have turned them down flat. Yet he was intrigued by the other side of Emma, the side that he knew next to nothing about, and here was the perfect chance to discover it.

"Your mum won't like it." Hook warned. A sudden mental image of Emma's face when she discovered her son had been spending time with a pirate gave him pause to reconsider. "Actually, that's fine."

Henry grinned his gratitude and sat down against the wall underneath the window so that he would only be seen if someone entered the room. He splayed the book onto his outstretched legs and flicked through it.

"You're in this book, you know," he said after a moment, glancing up at Hook and then back down to the page. "The picture doesn't look much like you, though."

"Probably because the book doesn't contain the tale of my being bested by a car." Still, Hook strained to catch a look. "What's the book about?"

"Fairytales," Henry answered promptly. "Well, what people in this world call fairytales. They're stories about the people who lived in the Enchanted Forest. Snow White, Prince Charming, everyone."

"And what happens in my story?" Hook asked, already suspicious of this unofficial biography. There were some aspects of his life that he didn't want readily available to whomever had the skill to read.

"Neverland, mostly," Henry told him, his eyes scanning the page. "It says you have a grudge against Rumplestiltskin but it doesn't say why." He looked up. "You know that going after Rumplestiltskin won't end well, right?"

Hook, in his broken, captured state, had to grin at the innocence of the boy's question.

"The thought had occurred."

Henry went back to his book. Hook marvelled at the boy's lack of fear, even after reading about the Captain's life. Emma's son was either brave or foolish.

"So why don't you like him?"

Foolish, then. How could he understand Hook's obsession for revenge when he split relationships into like and dislike? The reasons went far beyond either of those emotions and Hook wasn't keen to divulge.

"We had a disagreement."

"Oh." The room was silent until another thought crossed Henry's mind. "You should maybe give him a break right now. Someone hurt his girlfriend."

Hook was about to retort how well he knew this fact when he got a look at Henry's expression. There was sorrow for Belle, pity for the Crocodile and expectancy directed at Hook himself. Though Hook was not ashamed of what he had done in harming the Crocodile's lover, he was reluctant to tell Henry of the part he played. Such matters were not for children to understand and Hook wasn't about to frighten away the only person willing to be in the same room as him.

"I'll bear that in mind," he said.

Henry, satisfied, went back to reading. Hook watched him for a moment before drifting into unwelcome contemplation. Henry was older than Milah's son Baelfire had been when Milah left her home for a life of adventure on the seas. The woman Hook loved had been a firecracker, a pirate, but she had not been made to be a mother. She had been as wild as the sea and demanded the same freedom. Nothing could tie her down.

"How much treasure do you have?"

The question broke Hook from his reverie. "What?"

"Treasure. Y'know, coins, jewellery, general shiny stuff."

Hook shot the boy a glance.

"Yes, lad, I know what treasure is. Rest assured that I have enough to send you off to a remote boarding school for a good few years should anyone ask me to."

Henry pulled a face at the page he was reading.

"Don't joke, that's probably my mom's next step."

Hook hadn't counted on taking Emma's side in anything again, yet now he felt the need to defend her. He knew what lengths she would go to in order to see her son again, after all.

"People do extreme things in the name of love." He reminded himself that he was talking about Emma and not himself, and hammered this point home with his next words. "Your mother fought very hard to return to you."

"You met her before Storybrooke? She didn't mention you."

Hook cushioned the blow to his ego with the knowledge that he hadn't expected Emma to speak of him, unless it was in curses and unflattering references. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little stung.

"We were allies for a short time back in my world." he considered this and felt the need to add, "A _very_ short time."

Henry was enthralled and didn't seem at all perturbed by his mother's association with Captain Hook. For him, this was better than any of the stories in the book.

"What happened?"

"A sudden attack of common sense on her part," Hook answered, trying not to sound bitter. "Can't trust a pirate, after all."

Hook wasn't sure what Henry did with this information, though he didn't probe the topic any further. Exactly what he had been told about the infamous Captain Hook remained a mystery, although apparently it wasn't a strong enough deterrent to stop the boy from seeking him out and bombarding him with questions.

"You're only ever called Captain Hook in here. Is Hook your real name? Because that's a really weird coincidence if your parents called you that."

"No," Hook replied, amused despite himself. "My name is Killian."

"Then why not stick with that? That's pretty threatening, too. Has the world 'kill' in it."

"That it does."

Henry took the wise option of not pursuing this train of thought, though that did not mean that he was finished with his questions.

"What about when your hook is missing, like now? Are you still Hook or are you Stump?"

Hook had attacked men for less than this remark but Henry's face was pleasantly blank, awaiting a reply, and Hook realised that the boy was genuinely curious. It endeared him to the child slightly more. Pirates respected a healthy amount of audacity.

"Hook," he answered, trying to picture Emma's face when he told her that her son would make a terrific pirate. "Although I suppose it's too much to ask that I be addressed as Captain?"

Henry considers this for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah. Just Hook."

Hook couldn't even command respect from a prepubescent boy. He wasn't overly impressed with this world so far.

As Henry lapsed back into silence, Hook tried to decide if he was pleased that the book had erased his human side completely. Killian Jones didn't exist, overtaken completely by Captain Hook: ruthless and charming and determined. It wasn't the worst legacy he could leave behind - he was proud of quite a few of his exploits, although he wasn't sure that a lad as young as Henry should be reading about them - but it was only one side of him.

"If they had to cut off your foot, what would you replace it with?"

"Another hook. I appreciate consistency."

Henry grinned at the sarcasm and Hook marvelled at the difference between mother and son. The boy kept finding new and impertinent things to ask without showing even the faintest glimpse of fear. He had none of Emma's hesitance to open herself up. Really, Emma Swan was the most fearful brave person Hook had ever met.

He wanted to see her again.

The door banged open. Hook automatically tried to move and then hissed in pain as everything worked to restrict him.

"Hook, have you seen…Henry!"

Emma grabbed the boy and pulled him into a hug. She rested her chin on the crown of his head and Hook could see wild fear shining in her eyes. She held her son so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Why didn't you tell someone where you were going?" she demanded, breaking apart and holding Henry by the shoulders. "Cora and Regina are somewhere out there and you just leave? Come on, Henry, you know better than that."

"You were keeping me stuck in the same room all day," Henry protested, a sullen slant to his mouth.

_Don't mind me_, Hook thought as the pain continued to shoot through him. _Just dying over here._

Emma sighed. "Henry, we agreed that you could go to the hospital as long as you stayed with David."

Hook scoffed quietly. David was in charge? Suddenly the mystery of how Henry had escaped became clear.

"Come on, we're going back." When Henry didn't move, Emma frowned at him. "Henry. Let's go."

"I'm tired of just sitting around," Henry said, making a stand with the same stubbornness that Emma had exhibited many times. "I don't want to stay in hiding because of what _might _happen."

"My main priority right now is keeping you safe," Emma said, matching his determined tone.

"But-"

"Henry," Hook interrupted, causing both mother and son to look up at him. Emma seemed cautious and for a split second, Hook wondered what he was doing. He had no interest in family arguments and it wasn't his place to interject. He carried on anyway. "Do as your mum says. There's a good lad."

Emma's suspicion slowly gave way to confusion. Hook lifted an eyebrow, asking a silent _what?_ that Emma didn't answer. Instead, she gave him a quick nod, her forehead still creased in uncertainty, and placed a hand back on a suddenly willing Henry's shoulder.

"Come on," she said to her son. "I'll buy you a drink."

"Just as long as it's not coffee," Henry grumbled.

Hook approved that the boy had sense enough to avoid that damn awful drink. He wondered if Emma would say anything more before leaving, but she only offered him the smallest of smiles before closing the door. Small but was sincere, and that was more than he had received from her so far in this room.

It was only a few minutes later that she made a reappearance, alone this time. She seemed uncomfortable, at a loss for words, and Hook knew that she did not enjoy feeling indebted to someone.

He spoke first, his voice stretching across the empty space between his bed and where she stood.

"Why did you check here when you knew Henry was missing? What made you think I would have knowledge of his whereabouts?"

"We were talking about you before." Emma said this with no hint of regret. "Henry wanted to meet you but I said no."

"I see." Hook was fairly certain they hadn't been speaking positively about him and glossed over it. "Did I live up to his expectations?"

Emma shrugged. "He seemed pretty impressed."

"Yes, well. It was just nice to have a visitor."

Hook had told himself he would not be petty about it, and yet here they were.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me," Emma said, only a hint of uncertainty coloring her words as she folded her arms across her chest.

Hook's smile did not reach his eyes. He would entertain Emma's son and even help her when he was being difficult, but he had not forgotten her last parting shot.

"It's been three days. At this point I would have been happy to see _Cora_."

Emma lowered her eyes, acknowledging the hit. The movement wasn't guilty and it wasn't bashful, but it was a start.

"I should have come in to check on you," she said, and Hook knew that that was as much of an apology as he would get.

"Doesn't make much of a difference to me, love," he lied. His pride couldn't take many more dents but at the same time it took effort to maintain indifference to someone who intrigued him as Emma did. "It was good to meet your boy, though."

"Yeah," Emma said, allowing a smile. "Thanks, you know, for…"

Hook wasn't letting her off so easily. "For…?" he prompted, feigning ignorance.

"For helping me," Emma finished, with the least amount of grace she could manage.

Her tone elicited a grin from Hook.

"No worries, love. You were both giving me a headache anyway." He softened. "I had you pegged as a good mum the moment you climbed that beanstalk."

It took Emma a moment to process this. She was undoubtedly analyzing for hidden jibes or double meanings, neither of which were there to be found. When she realized this, Hook could see her struggle as she tried to accept the compliment for what it was.

"It's why I fought so hard," she said, much to Hook's surprise. The way the words fell out of her mouth suggested that they were just as much of a shock to Emma. "And why I couldn't trust you. I thought that if I did, I might never get home to Henry. Leaving you at the top of the beanstalk…it was necessary, and I don't regret it, but maybe I could have done something differently."

The admission faded away into silence. Emma's motivations were not previously unknown to Hook, though the hint that she felt bad about abandoning him was certainly a welcome revelation. He took it as her version of rewarding him for looking after her son. He didn't voice the thought that there were other, more preferable ways of rewarding a man, and instead put on his best self-deprecating smile.

"I probably would have left me up there, too." He lifted his hand and watched the cuffs follow. "Don't suppose there's any chance of freedom?"

Emma regained her sardonic smile and with it, they reverted into their old roles. There was no trust, no love lost, probably no second chances. Hook didn't doubt that in a few hours Emma would forget how grateful she felt for her son's safety and continue her practised disdain for the Captain she had come so close to apologizing to.

But for now, the conversation was going in the unprecedented direction where it may actually finish on a civil note. Hook, already tired from the stream of questions from his earlier visitor, decided to quit while he was ahead. Another unprecedented move.

"You should go and keep an eye on your son before he tries for another daring escape."

Emma looked slightly taken aback at being told to leave, albeit gently, rather than leaving from her own volition. She recovered herself quickly.

"If Henry comes back here, you send him straight back, you understand?"

"Why would I do that when it seems to be the only way to ensure a visit from you?"

The half-sarcastic question earned a half-sarcastic twitch of Emma's lips in return. She left the room without another word, ending things on her terms as much as she could.

Hook knew she'd be back. As much as she might suggest otherwise, he knew she enjoyed their verbal jousts just as much as he did. He was both intrigued to know how far he could push Emma, and wary of pushing her so far that she never came back. It was a precarious balance and it kept him on his toes even when he was lying flat on his back.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

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**A/N: I'm sort of shoving Greg Mendell aside in this fic, because fuck that guy. Enjoy your in-story coma, you lying fool. Onto more pleasant matters, thank you so very much for your reviews/favourites/follows. Things have been so hectic that you are all such welcome relief. Hope you enjoyed last week's episode, only two more weeks to go until the new one! A h****appy birthday to our very own Colin O'Donoghue, drop him a tweet if you haven't already. Enjoy the chapter!**

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"Hey, beautiful."

Emma's expression didn't so much as flicker as she closed the door behind her. A lesser man would have been deterred but Hook lay back with a grin.

"Where's your boat?" Emma asked. She was not in the mood for pleasantries and the cup of god awful coffee in her hand was part of the reason why.

"Ship," Hook corrected with the appropriate amount of disdain. "And good morning to you, too. Sleep well? I did. I had some rather interesting dreams. Very…_vivid_."

"They involve me punching you in the face?"

"Significantly lower than the face, love, and not 'punching' so much as…well." He smiled and Emma wondered how much she would have to drink in order to forget the conversation.

"Remind me to thank the wonders of modern medicine for getting you back to your old self so quickly."

"You would have me any other way?"

Emma mentally replayed the rebuttal _I would have you a lot of other ways_ and then berated herself for even considering using that as a reply. Hook would tear it into innuendo-laden shreds.

"Your boat," she repeated instead.

Hook's smile was replaced with thin-lipped annoyance. It occurred to Emma that he didn't like people using incorrect sailing terminology. Well, that knowledge would come in very useful for levelling the field.

"_Ship_. It's in the docks."

Emma arched an eyebrow.

"Nice try. You think that wasn't the first place we checked?"

"Do you think I'd announce my presence by sailing into Storybrooke in plain sight?" Hook seemed slightly offended. "Despite what you may think, I _can_ be subtle."

Emma channelled her original reaction (a very loud and disbelieving _HA!_) into something a little more refined.

"You're right," she said, her sarcastic smile on fine form. "I guess it was the leather and eyeliner that made me think differently."

Hook nodded, accepting this. "It does tend to have that effect."

Emma said a brief, silent prayer that Hook hadn't asked her to apply his eyeliner while he was lying incapacitated, and then got back to business.

"So, the docks."

Hook noted her disbelieving tone with a condescending smile.

"It's a ship, darling. Where else would it be?"

Emma still wasn't convinced.

"You have magic on your side," she reminded him. "Cora could have shrunk it down or turned it into a mouse or something."

Hook grinned as though he found the idea ludicrous.

"Rest assured that I would never allow Cora to alter the Jolly Roger as drastically as that."

Neither of them mentioned that lack of permission would hardly be enough to stop Cora from doing something.

"Now," Hook continued in a more serious tone, "what I want to know is why you're looking for my ship." There was a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Think I've got Cora stashed away on there?"

"Call it a natural curiosity," Emma returned, although she had difficulty imagining Cora hiding and cowering anywhere, least of all a cargo hold.

In truth, she wasn't looking for anything in particular. It had been agreed that if an item seemed suspicious or appeared to be of use against Cora, then David and Mary Margaret would take it. Emma had elected to stay behind to question Hook.

"How did you get to Storybrooke on your ship?"

There was a sarcastic tilt to Hook's smile.

"Would you believe I sailed in?"

"Remind me to call the slackers at border patrol. They really dropped the ball on this one."

She prepared herself for another quick retort but Hook seemed done with their tête-à-tête and shifted the topic.

"How did you know I arrived by ship?"

"Archie told me." Then, with more than a hint of accusation, Emma added, "He's pretty shaken up."

"The cricket?" Hook assumed an innocent air that Emma doubted had ever fooled anyone. "I barely even threatened him."

"You almost performed unwanted brain surgery on him with your hook. Sounds pretty threatening to me."

Though Hook dropped his faux-innocence, the expression that replaced it was equally guilt-free. He clearly did not regret what happened with Archie.

"If he forgot to mention that my ship was invisible then he may have benefited from a little head examining. Spectacularly unobservant for a psychiatrist." He sighed in the heavy, dramatic way that Emma had come to recognise as a precursor for something unpleasant masquerading as a light comment. "It seems I would have done this town a favour by killing him. Then you could have hired someone halfway competent."

Emma refused to rise to the latter part of the taunt.

"He _did_ say the ship was invisible." She had the grace to look mildly guilty. "We just thought Cora had cast some kind of spell to make him say that and forget where it actually was."

Hook's smile was of bitter amusement. "Sad state of affairs when you can't even trust the personified version of a conscience."

Emma bristled.

"This isn't about trust. _Logic_-"

"Shouldn't have interfered with your instincts," Hook interrupted. It wasn't a gentle upbraiding; he expected better of her and he made his irritation clear. "When magic is involved, what you assume to be logical counts for nothing. Instinct is everything."

Emma was uncertain about this latest twist in their verbal spar (_why does Hook care about my instincts?_) though shifted her face into a carefully cultivated mask designed not to show any emotion.

"It's led me wrong before."

Hook didn't accept this excuse. He dismissed it with a shake of his head.

"You don't trust people? Fine. At least have faith in your own abilities."

If Hook knew, if he _understood_ the places that Emma's faulty instincts had landed her, he would not be so quick to urge her to listen to them. It felt like every time Emma was right about something, she was wrong about three other things. She had been wrong about Neal, she had been wrong about Regina and she hadn't listened to Henry or August until it was almost too late.

Still, there wasn't a chance in hell of her telling Hook any of this. She shrugged off the bad memories and focused on the present. Logically (Hook be damned, she was still going to use logic) the boat would be in a dock. There was nowhere else that it could be accessible, and of course there would be some kind of protection around it. Invisibility worked just as well as anything else.

"So, the docks?"

The repetition acted as a request for confirmation rather than its earlier incarnation of flat scepticism. Hook nodded and Emma reached for her phone. As she scrolled through her contacts to find Mary Margaret, she asked Hook,

"How do we find it?"

When he didn't reply, Emma looked up from her phone.

"A better question would be, why should I tell you?" Hook's grin was wicked. "I have a rather delightful image of your father feeling his way along thin air like a confused mime artist."

"Replace that with the picture of David throwing rocks into empty bays until he hits something, and you have my plan."

Emma had counted on Hook's wish to protect his ship and judging from the expression on his face, she had been correct.

"My ship has withstood cannons," he said, a faint note of pride in his voice. "A few errant rocks pose no threat."

"So I'll tell David to upgrade to something else. A flaming torch, maybe."

Hook looked as though he wanted to congratulate Emma on her cunning whilst strangling her. He tried to appear unconcerned, even derisive.

"You wouldn't let your father loose with fire."

Emma's lifted eyebrow was a silent _try me_. Hook tried to stare her down, secure in the knowledge that the ice in his eyes had made many an opponent quail before. Emma's calm but determined eyes greeted his and, after a few prolonged moments, Hook blinked and looked away. For all his talk of moral codes, he was ungracious in defeat; there was a petulance to his expression that would not have looked out of place on a toddler.

"Fine."

* * *

Not five minutes later, Emma was in a deserted waiting room talking to her mother on the phone.

"Did Hook tell you where the ship is?"

"He says it's invisible."

Mary Margaret's scoff crackled down the line.

"Convenient."

"Yeah." Emma rummaged absently around her jean pockets and fished out enough change for a drink. She wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear and slotted the money into the machine. "But it seems like Archie was telling the truth. Hook said the ship was the in fifth bay along the docks when you take the exit from Elverston Street. There should be a box of gritting sand on the dock, if you just throw some of that around then it'll settle on the ship."

"Are you sure you can trust Hook?"

Emma's finger hovered over the button marked _Coffee_.

"I believe him on this," she replied, pressing down.

To her credit, Mary Margaret did not doubt her daughter further.

"We're on our way," she said, and sure enough there was the sound of a car door slamming in the background. "Henry's with Ruby at the diner. Do you want us to drop him off at the hospital?"

Emma considered this for a moment. She remembered Henry's frustration at being cooped up in a room all day and knew it would be better for his sanity if he could stay with friends instead. She would just have to learn to live with the gnawing worry that something would happen to him. Being a mother was _fun_.

"No, leave him there," she said, watching coffee fill up the small plastic cup. She had gone to a different machine this time, one that hopefully offered better flavors. "Just ring me if you find anything."

"You're not going to drop by later?"

Emma scooped up her change that the machine spat out and waited an extra moment for the coffee to cool. It certainly smelled better than the last one.

"I'm going to keep an eye on Hook." There was a silence on the other end of the phone. "What?"

"Emma, Hook isn't going anywhere. He is literally tied to the bed."

From Mary Margaret's tone of voice, Emma felt as though she had been caught in the act of doing something she shouldn't. Embarrassment and indignation flushed her cheeks.

"That doesn't mean he isn't still dangerous." Emma heard the defensive edge in her own tone and calmed it down slightly. "I just don't want us to be so preoccupied with the stranger that we forget Hook is still a threat."

Mary Margaret didn't buy this. Emma wasn't sure that she herself did, either. But she _was_ still getting useful information out of Hook and as long as he still had things left to tell, she would continue to visit him.

"Don't get so distracted by Hook that you forget the stranger can hurt us, too."

Mary Margaret's warning was soft but, to Emma's mind, completely unnecessary. She found herself agreeing, if only to placate her mother, but once the conversation ended she began to mull it over.

Don't get distracted? She was _not _distracted; she knew what was important and she knew how to achieve it. If that meant being the only person to willingly visit Hook, so be it. Besides, she knew how to get him to talk. They understood each other in a small and kind of twisted way.

Emma left the waiting room with endless justifications running through her mind. In her haste, she left her coffee in the machine.

In a concerted effort to prove Mary Margaret wrong, Emma spent the rest of the day enquiring about the stranger and doing everything in her power to help his situation. Unfortunately, there was only so many things she could do to assist a man in a coma and eventually Dr. Whale had had to ask her to leave.

When Mary Margaret came to take over her shift, Emma couldn't face asking her to check in on Hook. She left without a word on the topic, and it was an uncomfortable drive home questioning if her priorities had shifted.

* * *

The next day, Emma went back to Hook.

"We found your boat."

"Ship. And I don't much care for the smug tone, love, seeing as I told you exactly where it was and how to find it."

Emma didn't tell him that her smugness was due to the fact that he had been telling the truth. It gave her more credibility to interrogate someone who wasn't a proven liar one hundred percent of the time.

She closed the door behind her and took her usual seat in a hard plastic chair by the window. She was in here so often, threatening or arguing or coercing, that standing up was no longer a desirable option.

"Find anything interesting?" Hook didn't sound overly concerned.

"Enough gold to pay for your medical bills," Emma replied promptly. "Although I don't think that doubloons are accepted currency anymore."

Hook's mouth became a very thin line. "You stole my gold?"

"I stole your stolen gold," Emma confirmed with a smile that she tried very hard not to make vindictive. "Gave it to Henry to hold onto for awhile. He'll probably try and spend it on comic books and candy. Enjoy that knowledge."

For a moment, Hook looked murderous. Then something seemed to click inside his head and he relaxed.

"No matter. They were counterfeit," he said, immensely pleased with himself now that he knew only the worthless treasure had been filched.

Emma frowned. "How do you know which ones we took?"

"They were the only ones you would be able to find," Hook said, not issuing a challenge but stating a fact. Before Emma could call him out on this, he continued. "How's your lad?"

Emma's forehead creased even more.

"Wanting to take sailing lessons."

Hook grinned and Emma remembered her own, decidedly less amused reaction to Henry's wish. She had a feeling that the request would be revisited during every major holiday until she gave in.

"It isn't funny. Pirate isn't a viable career choice for him."

Hook dismissed this with a scoff.

"Of course it is." An idea occurred to him, lending a newfound enthusiasm to his expression. "Once I'm on my feet, I'll show him the basics of sailing."

Hook's genuine interest at the prospect gave Emma pause. Not to reconsider her son becoming a pirate (the phrase 'over my dead body' came to her mind) but to realise the bond that Henry had so quickly - and inexplicably - formed with Hook. Emma had put it down to hero worship on Henry's part, though Hook was certainly no hero, and mere tolerance from Hook. And yet…

"What?" Hook asked, and Emma realised that she had been staring thoughtfully at him.

"Nothing." She resumed her nonchalance a moment too late. "I was just thinking how you could teach Henry on your magic boat of invisibility and how well that would end for everyone."

Hook's enthusiasm faded and in its place was a stern look.

"Listen, love. As dull as you would undoubtedly find a lesson on nautical terms, if you call my ship a 'boat' one more time then I will be forced to become your teacher. And you would have to take notes because there would be a test."

Emma waited for Hook to crack a smile. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, 'ship' it is." A thought occurred, and she struck while she had the chance. "On one condition."

Hook perked up at this. "Name it, love."

"Tell me how you got to Storybrooke."

Hook looked mildly disappointed. He settled himself back down and, mostly to himself, said,

"What a waste of a condition. Alright," he continued, louder this time, "I used the bean taken from the giant. I'm assuming you remember the lake where I so gallantly spared your life in a swordfight?"

Emma pretended to think for a moment.

"You mean the one where you got cocky and I knocked you out using a compass? Yeah, I remember."

Hook's lips twitched, although Emma couldn't tell whether it was in amusement or annoyance.

"The lake used its restorative properties to revitalize the bean and then created a portal which was, happily for Cora and myself, ship-sized."

"The bean," Emma mused. With a wry twist to her voice, she added. "Not so dried up, dead and useless after all?"

Hook's smile was easier to read this time. It was one of those rare, genuine moments that belonged to Killian Jones rather than Captain Hook.

"It seems it just needed the right encouragement."

There was a softness in his voice that Emma had never heard before. It was completely different from the lowered tones in which he had spoken his past threats and insinuations. On anyone else, Emma would have called it gentle affection.

Mary Margaret had called Hook a distraction, and Emma was beginning to worry that she was right.

"Speaking of magic liquid," Hook announced, shattering the moment entirely, "I'd like some rum."

Emma happily latched onto this swift turn in conversation.

"Magic liquid? Really?"

"Named for the time we accidentally got a nine year old drunk," Hook explained with a remorseless grin. "It's an amusing tale, actually."

"One which you will not be repeating to my son."

Hook's expression made a mockery of discipline.

"You're not going to let him have any fun?"

Emma was not swayed. She would not take parenting tips from a pirate Captain.

"My son won't drink, he won't get into fights and he can't have a girlfriend until he's…ever."

It was excessive, and certainly not something that Emma would stick to, but it sounded ideal. If Henry turned out as troublesome as Emma was when she was a teenager, she would be in for a hell of a time.

"All mistakes that you made in the past, I take it?" Hook asked.

Again, he sounded genuinely interested in her life and Emma couldn't understand why. Was it part of some trap? Was he learning everything he could about her, her past, her weaknesses, and then reporting them back to Cora?

_Try something new, darling. It's called trust._

"All except for the girlfriend part," she admitted after a silence that was too long to go unnoticed. Hook didn't comment on it, though his slight smile was back.

"Glad to hear it." When Emma looked up, he said, "I'd hate to think the effort I put into charming you has gone completely to waste."

He was back to Captain Hook and, taking his cue, Emma retreated behind her own persona.

"You were trying to charm me? I thought that was just your elaborate way of asking me to punch you."

"It's an unintended side-effect."

They danced like this for a short while longer, tripping each other up with words and innuendos, each playing at trust and hoping to reveal a weakness in the other, not necessarily to exploit but to understand. It was a tenuous alliance but, for the moment, that was all that it needed to be. The unspoken fear was that one day soon, their pre-established allegiances and loyalties would come into play and all of this progress would be for nothing.

* * *

**Chapter outtake based on a quote from the official **_**In the Name of the Brother **_**podcast with Adam and Eddy:**

_"There was a really great scene that got cut because of time, but it was in the middle of all this chaos, Captain Hook comes out and says, "What the hell is THIS?" And it was Jell-O. Cause he had never seen it before and it was just him experiencing hospital Jell-O. But alas! It did not make the cut! Maybe on the DVD."_

* * *

"Hey," Emma greeted as she opened the door. "Brought you something."

Hook looked up, a small smile playing at his lips. His cuts were beginning to heal and he was looking brighter by the day.

"What did I do to deserve such generos-" Emma placed the plateful of Jell-O into his hand. Hook stared at it for a moment before looking back to Emma. "Am I being punished?"

"No. Well, not right now." Emma didn't try to hide her amusement at Hook's perplexed expression. "It's Jell-O. It's food. Sort of."

Hook tilted the plate so that the lurid green mound slid towards his outstretched thumb. His attempt to poke the dessert ended badly when his thumb became submerged. He removed the digit with the ultimate expression of distaste.

"It looks like something from the bottom of the sea."

For some reason, Emma came to the Jell-O's defense.

"It's not _that_ bad."

"It's slimy and unnaturally colored." Hook handed the plate back. "I'm not eating that."


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

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**A/N: Thank you for your reviews, favourites and follows, I hope this fic is helping you through the hiatus like it's helping me! Enjoy the chapter lovelies.**

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"I want to see Captain Hook again."

Emma stopped mid-bite of her cereal. Henry, already dressed for the day ahead, was wearing his _letting you know is more of a formality, this is definitely what we're doing _expression. Emma had learned to dislike this expression; it usually meant that things were not about to go her way. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Mary Margaret had paused her own breakfast and was watching carefully.

"Uh," Emma said, stalling for time while she chewed more carefully than she ever had before. When she had no other choice but to swallow the cereal, she did so with great reluctance. "I don't think that's such a great idea."

Henry frowned. "Why not? _You _see him all the time."

Emma could almost feel the disapproval radiating from Mary Margaret.

"Right," Emma agreed, "but that's different."

"Why?"

_Holy hell, kid, drop it_.

"Because I'm trying to find out if he's a threat."

"He's got one hand, a broken ankle and he's tied to a bed," Henry said, his forehead creased in confusion.

"He's resourceful," Emma argued, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. "There are some things he only needs one hand for."

"Okay!" Mary Margaret said, setting down her coffee and walking over to where Henry stood. "Henry, why don't you go and pack your bag for school?"

"It's Saturday."

"Right," the princess said, maintaining her falsely bright manner, "but it's best to be prepared!"

Henry looked at Emma, who shrugged.

"Don't argue with a teacher when it comes to school," was Emma's advice. "We'll talk about Hook later."

Knowing the conversation was temporarily lost, Henry sloped off to his bedroom. Emma went back to her cereal, safe in the knowledge that she didn't have to justify herself.

"_There are some things he only needs one hand for_." Mary Margaret's mouth was a thin line of disapproval. "Really, Emma."

"What?" At her mother's continued frown, Emma silently admitted to herself that it hadn't been the best phrase to use, unintentional thought it had been. She scooped up another spoonful of cereal. "Your name is Snow White, get your mind out of the gutter."

Despite her efforts, a slight smile fought its way onto Mary Margaret's face. She returned to her coffee, leaning forwards on the breakfast bar as she cupped the mug. A thought occurred and a cloud passed over her face.

"Still no sighting of Regina."

Emma glanced aside to check that Henry wasn't in earshot.

"No. Cora hasn't been spotted either, and Gold's keeping a low profile."

Neither woman could pretend that the news was welcome. Absence meant the calm before a storm that Storybrooke may not be able to weather.

"I know that you've been spending a lot of time with Hook-"

"Interrogating," Emma interrupted. The terminology seemed important.

"But you can't forget that he isn't on our side," Mary Margaret continued, ignoring her daughter. "He's on his own side first, Cora's second and ours…well, I don't think we're even on his list of potential allies."

"I haven't forgotten," Emma said, although loyalties weren't something she liked to bring into the hospital room. She pushed away the mushy remains of her cereal and then, on second thoughts emptied it out into the bin and placed the bowl by the sink. "I'm taking Henry with me today."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, staring at Emma.

"You know Henry," Emma said, trying to calm Mary Margaret with rationalities. "If I say no, he'll just go himself and I can't let him wander around town alone. Besides, they really seemed to hit it off. If Hook spends time with Henry, maybe it'll stop him from helping Cora later on."

It was a long shot, Emma had to admit, but when her only other options of protecting herself and her loved ones against Cora were "run and hide" she was willing to grab onto any opportunity she could get.

Mary Margaret nodded reluctantly. She rinsed and tidied away their dishes while Emma watched.

"I know we agreed that going looking for Cora and Regina was suicide but I don't think I can just sit back and wait for them to attack," Mary Margaret said, scrubbing a dish with a fervor that it didn't deserve. "David told us where her vault is, we should just storm it."

"With no weapons, magic or general plan of attack?" Emma shook her head. "I hate it too, and I can't believe that _I'm_ the voice of reason here but if we attack right now we don't stand a chance. We're working on getting more fairy dust and we can make a deal with Gold that doesn't end up screwing us over."

Mary Margaret laughed mirthlessly. "I'm pretty sure they're the only deals Gold likes to make."

"I'm all packed," Henry announced, walking back in and cutting the adults' conversation short. "Can we go now?"

"Give me ten minutes to get ready," Emma said, heaving herself up and resigning herself to the day ahead.

* * *

Seven minutes later - Henry was very persistent - they began the short drive to the hospital. Regina would not attack in the middle of the street (they hoped) but walking anywhere seemed more of a risk as the days went by.

"Hook said you knew each other in the Enchanted Forest," Henry piped up as soon as Emma started the car. "Why didn't you mention him?"

Emma kept her eyes on the empty road as though it required all of her concentration.

"It's complicated."

"He said you were allies."

"He said a lot, didn't he?" Emma muttered, mainly to herself. She checked the rear view mirror to check that no one suspicious was following. "We were, for a little while."

"What happened?"

Emma was surprised that Hook hadn't told Henry this part. It was his choice of propaganda against her and if he had wanted to cause trouble, he could have spun the sad tale of the woman leaving the well-intentioned pirate to face a giant's wrath.

"I wasn't sure that he would help me get back to you," Emma said, glancing at her son and feeling the familiar surge of love and protectiveness. "So I had to leave him behind."

Henry processed this. "I think he would have helped."

_You would've done the same._

_Actually, no._

"Yeah," Emma said, her focus back on driving. "Maybe."

* * *

"All right, lad?"

Hook's seemingly genuine happiness at seeing Henry again made Emma smile despite herself. Henry wasted no time in showing the pirate his book again, pointing out all the relevant pages, and Emma walked over and perched herself on the edge of the bed. Hook glanced up at her with a grin that belonged to Killian before returning his attention to the stories. Emma dropped the bar of chocolate she had bought for Henry from the vending machine onto the bed, certain that the distraction of Captain Hook overruled any need for a sugar fix.

"Is it true that you can save a fairy's life by clapping your hands?" Henry asked, pointing at one of the illustrations.

"Not if the fairy is in between your hands when you clap," Hook answered dryly. "Truthfully, I've never been much interested in saving fairies before. Nasty little things, they are."

Emma scoffed. "Yeah, they're vicious with their little wings and outfits made from flowers, and God forbid they make shoes for you while you sleep."

"That was elves," Henry corrected.

"Once again, your stories mislead you," Hook said to Emma, a faint note of reproach in his voice. "Never trust a fairy."

"I knew that," Henry said, as though he expected some reward.

"Course you did, you're a smart lad."

Emma could have sworn that, had he been free, Hook would have ruffled Henry's hair. If she had known they would form a team against her, Emma would have been more hesitant to re-introduce to pair.

"Don't pout, sweetheart," Hook said, sending her a quick grin.

"I wasn't pouting," Emma said, trying to retract her lips just in case they had been puckered in any way.

"We should show you your movie," Henry decided, drawing Hook's attention away from Emma for the moment.

"What's a movie?"

"A lot of moving pictures that make up a story," Henry explained, taking the bizarreness of the situation in his stride. Emma loved that about the kid. "There are movies with real people and movies with drawings."

Hook seemed equally as open to this new idea.

"Am I a real person or a drawing in my movie?"

"Well, it's a pretty popular story, so there's more than one," Henry said. "In one you're a drawing and in another you're a real person."

Hook nodded thoughtfully. "I should like to see my movie."

"Make sure I'm there when you do," Emma said, imagining Hook's face when he saw the bumbling, inept Disney cartoon of himself.

"While I would usually jump at the offer, I can't quite trust that smile of yours." Hook lowered his voice conspiratorially and said to Henry, "Never trust a beautiful woman, especially when she's smiling."

Emma decided she had to erase that piece of advice as quickly as possible before it had any effect.

"Hey kid, know who you should trust even less? Pirates."

Henry, unaware of the subtext of this conversation, shrugged it off and came up with new questions for the Captain.

"Do you know Jack Sparrow?"

"I do. The sod owes me money."

Henry absorbed this with wide-eyed wonder.

"What's he like?"

Hook, possibly aware that he was about to lose the boy's respect in favor of another famous pirate captain, adopted a distasteful expression.

"He cheats at card games. Very bad form."

There was a knock on the door and all three of them looked up. David entered the room, his eyes flicking from his grandson to the pirate to his daughter as he took in their close proximity to one another. He didn't approve, that much was obvious, but he was unwilling to say so in front of Henry.

"Time's up, kid," he said to Henry. "Snow says I have to take you back."

Emma wasn't entirely surprised that Mary Margaret had changed her mind about Henry's visit with Hook, though she wished her mother would trust her. Hook seemed equally put out.

"Perhaps you should stop taking orders from your wife without questioning them," he said, glaring at David.

To Emma's surprise, and pride, it was Henry who came to the defense of his grandfather.

"Have you _met_ Snow White?" he asked Hook, closing the book and holding it against his chest. "She's kind of scary when she wants to be. I'll be back soon, though."

Henry wandered over to a smiling David, who clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You coming back home once you're…done here?" David asked Emma, an implicit request for an explanation in his words.

Emma nodded. "Got to stop off at the station but then, yeah, home."

"Great." He looked as though he had more to say but couldn't bring himself to. "Alright, we'll see you later."

Emma watched her family go, wondering what David would report back to Mary Margaret. She heard David ask Henry "Want to stop in at Granny's on the way back? They put that really great cake back on the menu" and knew she had a little time until Mary Margaret called her demanding to know more about her association with the pirate.

"You're not going with them?"

Emma turned back to Hook. It felt a little strange to be sitting on his bed now that she didn't have the excuse of being near Henry, but moving now would be impossible without making things awkward.

"No, Henry will be fine with David. And I still have some things to ask you," she added as a hasty afterthought.

"I see where your son gets his curious nature from," Hook said, the lift of his lips suggesting that he didn't quite buy Emma's excuse.

"I think he sees you as some sort of hero," Emma said, unwrapping the chocolate bar that Henry had left behind.

"Then I have been seriously misrepresented."

Emma didn't disagree. Instead, she broke her chocolate bar in half and threw four squares to Hook. They landed in his lap and he looked down at them quizzically.

"What's this?"

"Just try it."

Hook gave her a wry look.

"The last thing you gave me to try was dreadful, forgive me for being hesitant about further offerings."

Emma almost laughed at the memory of Hook's first encounter with hospital coffee.

"Well, this isn't coffee."

"Doesn't really narrow things down."

Emma popped one of her own segments into her mouth.

"Its good, trust me."

"Historically, trusting you has been a mistake." Still, Hook picked up the squares, lifted the handcuffs as far as they would reach and took a tentative bite. He paused, nodded in approval and reached for another. "Although we may be entering a new era."

Emma ran a mental check on all the things her world had that the Enchanted Forest did not.

"You think this is good, remind me to take you for ice cream," she said. "It'll blow your mind."

Instead of the enquiries about ice cream that Emma had expected, Hook smiled.

"Careful, love, I might consider that as an invitation to spend time with you."

Emma supposed it was, in a way. Visits with Hook had become part of her routine now and she hadn't fully considered how they would go on once he was discharged from the hospital.

"You won't be in here forever, you know," she said, looking down at his ankle as though it would somehow tell her how long they had left in this hospital room. "What will you do when you're back on your feet?"

Hook ate another square of chocolate as he considered this.

"Buy a nice little cottage by the sea and settle down with that special someone."

Shame on Emma for expecting even a half-serious answer. Still, it gave her cause to respond in kind.

"If only that were true."

"Volunteering, love?"

"Gathering information to put onto the warning leaflets," Emma replied with a sardonic smile. "Can't have you running around Storybrooke seducing innocent girls who have no idea who you are."

At the mention of seduction, Hook's voice took on its own suggestive quality almost automatically.

"Don't be jealous, darling, my attentions are on you alone."

Emma should have seen that coming. In truth, perhaps she _had _seen it coming and that's why she said it.

"Resilient though you are," he added in his normal voice, eating another piece of chocolate.

"Thought you loved a challenge?"

Emma idly wondered what she would do if Hook turned to her and told her was done, for real this time. His persistence had become an odd part of her day, just like her visits had, to the point where her 'interrogations' of him were an escape from the absurdity of life in Storybrooke.

As though he could read this doubt, Hook smiled.

"Rest assured, I'm not giving up."

He reached for the last piece of chocolate but the handcuffs stopped just short of it. The sharp clank alerted Emma to his problem and she waited for the inevitable request for her to pick up the treat and place it in Hook's mouth. When Hook retracted his hand without comment, Emma frowned.

"I'll get it later," he said by way of explanation when he saw her expression.

Emma never thought the day would come when she was stunned that someone _didn't _proposition her in casual conversation, but then meeting Hook had caused her to re-evaluate many things.

Maybe the handcuffs were a tad excessive. It wasn't like the guy could get up and leave. And he _had_ been forthcoming about answers for everything she had asked. Years of professional experience told Emma not to un-cuff Hook, but her humanity urged her to give him a break. She listened to the latter, for a change.

Emma stood up and, almost woodenly, walked over to the other side of the bed. She tried not to second guess herself as she crouched over beside the bed to get a better look at the lock of the handcuffs. Giving into instinct was a terrifying prospect and she felt her fingers tremble a little as she withdrew the small key she carried in her pocket.

"Hold out your hand," she said, not looking anywhere but the cuff.

"Emma, what-?"

"Just do it."

Hook complied without further questioning, though Emma could almost sense his confusion. With the handcuffs straining, it was easier to locate and hold onto the lock.

"Here." The key slotted into the lock where it rested for a moment. Emma's grip on it remained firm; the turn that would set Hook free was difficult to make. She looked up at him and was surprised to find that his eyes were already on hers. "Don't make me regret this."

In amongst the vague threat was a vulnerability that only one who could read Emma well would have been able to pick up on. Unfortunately for her, Hook was one of those people. His voice was as soft as hers.

"I promise."

If Emma had picked up on anything other than sincerity in his tone - not to mention his gaze - then she would have taken the key and thrown it away. Instead, after only the slightest of further hesitations, she twisted it. The lock clicked open and, just like that, Hook was free.

"Thank you," he murmured, confusion mingling in with gratitude as he flexed his wrist.

Emma told herself it was the proximity that lowered his voice and caused her to lose her own.

She nodded and made to stand up, to get away from this scenario that she didn't understand, but Hook's outstretched hand stopped her. He was reaching for something. Emma stiffened when she realised that it was her. Hook's fingertips met her cheek and, when met with no resistance, made slow progress upwards, pausing against her ear. He was giving her a chance to move away, to voice her dissent, but all Emma could do was wait for his next path against her skin. Hook brushed a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, his touch as gentle as if he was handling rare china. Once done, his fingertips lingered on her cheek.

Hook didn't break eye contact and Emma found that she couldn't look away either. There was a soft sadness in his eyes that she had only ever seen hints of before. It spoke of a loneliness that ran so deep and seemed so inextricable that it may as well have been in his blood. Yet there were small spots of hope in amongst the sorrow. Hope that, if all moments could be like this one, he would not have to go through life so isolated from the concept of happiness.

His eyes searched hers and Emma was willing to bet that he would find his own state of being reflected in them. They were from different worlds, different times, and yet they were the same.

His fingers grazed a trail down to her neck before he pulled away. Logically, Emma knew that this was the right thing to do but at that moment she could not think of a single reason why. Something to do with complications.

She straightened up and the spell (the curse?) that had been cast was broken. Hook's expression reverted to its practiced mask of graceful boredom, with no hint of the troubles that lay beneath it. Emma shook off her own vague feelings - something to question later, if at all - and decided that she needed some space.

"I'm going to get a drink," she announced, already walking away. "You want anything?"

"Rum, please."

Hook's voice wasn't quite as steady as usual. Emma ignored the effect it had on her, though she couldn't deny that it was curiously pleasant.

"Coffee it is."

* * *

The moment Emma was gone, Hook slumped back in his bed.

_Well, damn._

He had always known that he and Emma shared common traits. He had known it from the moment she held a dagger to his throat and saw through the lies that so many others had fallen for. If he had to pinpoint a moment where everything went downhill for him, it would be that moment. Damn her for being so intriguing, so challenging, so bloody different than the usual women he passed the time with. They were nameless, faceless distractions next to Emma Swan. He would remember the feel of her skin against his until the day he died.

She was nobody's fool, this woman, and each time she bested him, Hook had become more determined to uncover what she hid behind her mask. He just hadn't been prepared to find himself staring back. In that one look, they had shared something so honest it was almost painful. It was one broken person finding solace in another.

In three hundred years, he had never found someone like Emma. It scared him to think that he might be losing his grip on Milah but in truth she was little more than a memory now, a lost love. He had clung to her for as long as he could, made her his motivation for living and fighting for so long. By nature's law, he should have become dust long ago. The tales of Captain Killian Jones should have been relegated to half-forgotten anecdotes in the back room of a bar. Now, thanks to Milah and Neverland, Captain Hook had become a legend that no one would ever forget. His legacy would be to kill Rumplestiltskin and then, finally, he could lay his fearsome persona to rest and retreat back to Killian once more.

When Emma returned with two cups, Hook smiled. She could be his new motivation, once the Crocodile was dead. She could be his reason to face each new day.

* * *

**Next chapter: Oh, hey Cora. **


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

* * *

**A/N: Gold's "hey Emma, come help me find my son or I'll kill Hook" scene from **_**In the Name of the Brother**_** will happen during the course of this chapter. Hopefully it will be obvious to you where the scene takes place, because for length reasons I won't be typing it out. Plus, it was pretty perfect as it was and doesn't need readjusting for fanfic. **

**Thank you so much for your reviews/favourites/follows! There are now over one hundred followers of **_**Damage Control **_**out there, thank you for reaching that milestone with me. You are all my beans and I love you dearly. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Emma was beginning to admit to herself that, fine, perhaps Hook was a little bit of a distraction. He was different, and _different_ in a town full of fairytale characters was something special. While she had not forgotten who he was or what he had done, she was becoming more open to acknowledging the undercurrent that passed through every conversation they shared.

It scared and excited her in equal measure.

She slotted her spare change into the drinks machine and selected a coffee for herself and, after a moment of deliberation, chose tea for Hook; the pirate was already being deprived of rum, forcing hospital coffee on him was just cruel at this point.

Hook had half-expected Emma to run and not look back after sharing such an intimate part of herself, so when she arrived back with two steaming cups just minutes later, he was cautiously optimistic.

"Tea," she announced, handing him one of the cups. "It's from the hospital, so it's still kind of bad, but I think you'll prefer it to coffee."

Finally, something he was familiar with. The natives of Neverland brewed tea from herbs found growing in the forests and they would trade with the Captain for goods he found ("found") on his travels. Some of the infusions were more potent than others and on several occasions, Hook and his crew had found themselves spending entire evenings remarking on the brightness of the stars after ingesting too much _special_ tea.

He took a sip of the weak, burning liquid and frowned.

"This isn't quite the tea I'm used to."

"You drink tea?" Emma's scepticism was almost insulting. "Doesn't really fit in with the pirate image."

"Rum is all very well and good but I didn't get to become Captain by sitting around drunk all the time."

"Just, like, seventy percent of the time?"

"Sixty five at most."

"Hm."

She took a sip of coffee, her expression growing contemplative. She had been silent for three minutes, taking intermittent gulps of that damn awful drink, before Hook could no longer bear it. He could read her so well that in the moments she was a mystery to him, it seemed somehow wrong.

"What?" he asked, not bothering with patience.

"I need to ask you something and it's important that you tell me the truth."

She wasn't asking him to promise anything, probably because she knew he wouldn't. He understood the quiet urgency behind her words and silently resolved to at least try and answer honestly.

"What will you do once you leave here?"

Hook held her gaze for a moment before looking away, frustrated. He had thought he had successfully evaded that question earlier when he fobbed her off with a joke.

"You won't like my answer," he warned.

"Will it be the truth?"

He gave her a slight smile. Truth, in Hook's experience, was fluid; the right price could change it or make it disappear completely. Still, Emma seemed to be more than a little obsessed with it.

"Pirate's honor."

Emma matched his reluctant smile.

"That isn't as reassuring as you think it is."

"I swear on my virtuous nature?"

"Now you're just messing with me."

They fell into their practised banter with relief; it was easy and familiar, so unlike the dangerous territory of life outside the hospital room. Reality was an anchor that stopped them falling too far, and soon enough Emma's grin faded into the solemn air of expectancy.

"I will do the same thing I have always done," Hook said, looking straight ahead. "Take my revenge upon the Crocodile."

The line came out stilted, as though he was rehearsing a play. The news would disappoint Emma and Hook was not interested in seeing her reaction. He heard a soft, half-amused sigh.

"Really wish you would've said that _before_ I un-cuffed you."

"Regretting it already?"

The question came out sharper than he intended, and Hook realized that he still didn't trust that Emma wouldn't restrain him again.

"Not really." In contrast to his harsh voice, Emma was flippant. "I needed my handcuffs back. Lots of men to chain to hospital beds, limited resources. You know how it is."

"Can't say that I do. Law enforcement is certainly different where I'm from."

Emma drained her cup of coffee. "Yeah, but I guess if you just called the cops on Peter Pan for being a public nuisance then you wouldn't make much of a story."

Hook grinned at the thought of Pan in jail. Undignified as it may be, it would certainly serve him right.

"I doubt the law would listen to me anyway," he said, remembering with relish the many times he had clashed with - and bested - sheriffs and guards.

"Can't think why." Once again, Emma's attempted foray into light-heartedness didn't last very long. "If you go after Rumplestiltskin, he will kill you. You know that."

"I know that the odds aren't in my favor," Hook corrected, abandoning joviality just as quickly. "But then, the odds are never in my favor. I'm a pirate, love, that's the point."

"There are no odds." Emma's fingers tightened around her cup in frustration. "There is no scenario where going after Rumplestiltskin ends well for you."

"Why do you care?"

Hook had learned many things during his centuries, including the art of deflection. It was incredibly useful in situations such as these, even if he did want to let Emma figure out her feelings on her own terms.

"I'm Sheriff," she said after a slight pause. "If people die, I don't get my shiny bonus at the end of the year. I'll be needing every cent to pay for Henry's damn sailing lessons. Did you know he asked for a parrot?"

"A parrot?"

"Yeah. Apparently you can't be a pirate without a parrot." Emma's lips twitched. "I feel I should mention again just how grateful I am that you're influencing my son's life like this."

Emma's cell phone (Hook was slightly proud of himself for picking up the new world's terminology) emitted a series of shrill bleeps that, should the listener be feeling kind, could be called a tune.

"Hey, Mary Margaret. Yeah, I'm - _what_?" Emma stood up so quickly the chair was knocked aside. "I'm leaving now. Don't do anything until I get there."

"Good news?" Hook asked innocently, trying to mask the alarm he was surprised he felt at the thought of Emma in trouble.

"Peachy." She stuffed the phone in her pocket and glanced down at his plaster-clad leg. "Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."

"That's funny. You're a funny woman."

Emma flashed him the briefest of smiles on her way out and Hook was left fuming at his own helplessness.

* * *

Not thirty minutes later came a distraction from Hook's brooding in the form of rolls of thick purple mist materialising at the foot of his bed. He braced himself for whoever was coming, with the decision forming in the back of his mind that he would be having serious words with Security.

When the fog cleared, Cora stepped out towards him. She was dressed strangely but would fit in well with their new surroundings. Black trousers and a fitted black blazer over a white shirt were a decided contrast to her elaborate gowns. Hook prayed she was an elaborate hallucination.

"Hello, Captain. I would ask how you are but it seems like this world doesn't agree with you."

"Neither world particularly agrees with me," Hook replied coolly. "It just so happens that this one has a rather more forceful way of showing it."

Cora's indulgent smile didn't reach her eyes. Hook wondered how painful these next few minutes would be for him and was thankful that at least Emma was out of harm's way.

"Reunion with daughter dearest didn't quite take, then?" he asked in what might have been optimistically described as a casual voice.

"Oh, the opposite," Cora said, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from her trousers. "My plan had the intended effect and we grow close once more."

"Marvellous. Couldn't be happier for you. Send her my best."

"However…" Cora began, and Hook suppressed a sigh. Of course there was a _however_. It was never bloody simple with this woman. "There have been some other complications and I find myself short of friends in this new world."

Hook knew where this was leading. He also knew that he had a limited number of responses to whatever deal Cora was about to offer, and fewer chances still of this ending well for him. He decided to cut to the chase.

"You can heal me."

Cora smiled, glad to see that he had caught on so quickly.

"True."

"I can help you."

"Oh, I doubt that," she said, her eyes twinkling with beautiful malice. "I left you to your own devices for two days and you landed yourself in hospital. What good could you do me?"

"I can advise you in the finer points of not getting hit by cars."

Cora's amusement hardened into something more serious.

"The fact that you didn't consider 'dodge' to be a viable option suggests to me that you can't. I want nothing from you, dear Captain."

Hook couldn't quite bring himself to believe this.

"So you're not looking to make another deal?"

Cora shook her head. "I already have a truce with your Crocodile."

Hook wished he had the capacity to be surprised, but at this point Cora's complete lack of scruples was becoming old hat. He raised an eyebrow.

"A flimsy alliance."

"Perhaps," Cora acknowledged, "but an alliance that benefits me nonetheless."

When Cora didn't elaborate, Hook found himself tired of the game.

"So you're here to gloat that you chose to be the Dark One's friend and not mine? A cunning strategy when we were infants, no doubt, but at this stage it rather lacks a punch."

"I'm not making a deal with you," Cora said. She adopted a kind tone that made Hook's skin crawl. "My method is this: I will heal you out of the goodness of my heart, and then point you in the direction of the method to kill your foe. Then things are entirely up to you."

Hook glossed over the blatant lie of Cora having any goodness whatsoever and tried to read into every possible meaning of what she was offering. He wasn't about to sabotage his one chance of revenge by rushing in blindly.

"Why do you want the Crocodile dead?"

Cora's lips thinned. Clearly, she had expected Hook to be so consumed by revenge that he would not question her.

"I mean to rule uncontested and his power is a challenge to my own."

Ah, there was the Cora he knew.

"Well, I have a great many friends already," Hook said, pretending to deliberate. He was enjoying the illusion of power to much to stop just yet. He would agree to Cora's terms, of course he would. She was handing him the power to finally kill the Crocodile, to begin to move on, and if he could make it a little less embarrassingly obvious how much he needed the help that Cora was providing then it would help his pride greatly.

"Because it benefits us both," Cora said, a triumphant air about her. "Rumplestiltskin has just enlisted the help of your Miss. Swan on some out-of-town quest." She lowered her voice to a mock-conspiratorial level. "He has granted her time to pack her belongings and then they leave."

_No_.

Hook scanned Cora's vindictive expression, trying to find some hint that she was manipulating events or wasn't speaking the truth. When he found no such indication, he resorted to plainer methods.

"Is that so."

He didn't let his voice shake and his face was still a calm, slightly disinterested mask. If Cora knew how hard his heart hammered against his chest, she would realize just how much of a weakness Emma presented to him. That was, if she didn't know already.

"Regrettable, isn't it?" Cora replied, sounding slightly bored. "Rumplestiltskin has allied himself with a most unfortunate choice of woman and any loyalty he may have towards her will prove troublesome for Regina and myself." Cora's gaze turned shrewd. "I trust that _your_ loyalty towards her won't be a problem."

Hook scoffed and, in an icy tone, replied,

"She betrayed me once before. I have no loyalty towards her."

Cora smiled in polite disbelief.

"Affection, then."

Hook did not care to define what he felt for Emma and bristled at Cora's repeated attempts. Best if he could continue the "I am done with you" impression that Cora saw him inform Emma of. He opened his mouth in an automatic denial but the witch waved away the words before they were spoken.

"Your preoccupation with this girls is no longer any of my concern. I merely propose that killing the Crocodile would grant you your revenge and ensure the safety of Miss. Swan."

_Why_ would Emma promise to leave with that demon? Damn her. Hook would have time to berate her once everything was over, once the Crocodile was dead and Milah was finally avenged. He would ignore the worry that knotted his stomach, the fear for her safety, and instead focus on finally achieving his goal of three hundred years.

"Fine, I accept your deal," he said to Cora, nodding down to his ineffectual ankle. "If you please."

"Not a deal," Cora reminded him, as though technicalities were of any consequence to him. "Merely one friend helping out another."

She ran a fingertip lightly over Hook's cast and it fell apart as easily as butter under a hot knife. Hook tried to forget that the hands that healed also had the capacity to hurt as they glided over his bare skin. For a moment he felt nothing but cool air, then a sharp stabbing pain blinded him, overtaking his senses to the point where he could not remember ever feeling anything else. He sank his teeth into the insides of his cheeks to stop from shouting out and then, just as swiftly, the pain was gone.

"Never go into nursing," Hook advised Cora as he regained his composure.

"My methods may be painful but they yield results." She glanced pointedly at Hook's ankle, indicating that he should check for himself.

Though he half-expected his foot to fall off under the slightest of pressure, Hook twitched his ankle. When no pain exploded, he tried it again. Growing more confident, he shifted himself around so that his legs dropped over the side of the bed and, with only the smallest of hesitations, put enough pressure on his ankle to support his weight.

"My apologies," he murmured, standing up. "It seems you would be a credit to the health profession."

It was as though the last few days of immobilisation had never happened; nothing felt out of place and walking seemed the most natural thing in the world. Should the mood strike him, he didn't doubt that he could hop, skip or jump. Of course, these things were not becoming of a pirate Captain and the notions were swiftly abandoned.

"Much obliged," Hook said, trying to move Cora along.

"Wait," the witch said, her eyes twinkling. She tilted her head in consideration and, with a wave of her hand, Hook was once more clad in his pirate regalia. He had missed the feel of leather on his skin, though not as much as he missed his hook. "Can't skin a crocodile without the proper attire."

"Can't skin a crocodile at all without the dagger," Hook pointed out, still examining his clothes. Ideally, he would ask Cora for his hook back, but that might somehow put Emma in harm's way. "I assume you're not carrying it round in that charming new outfit of yours?"

"Indeed not. I couldn't risk bringing it out into public with me, could I?" Cora was all innocence and light. "You'll have to retrieve it from Regina."

Well, this was sounding more and more like a trap. Hook raised an eyebrow but Cora was no longer paying attention to him. A wicked smile stole over her features, erasing her previous attempt at virtue.

"You have a visitor," she said, her eyes flicking back to his. "Interesting that Emma Swan should take time out to pay you a visit."

Hook felt himself tense. As a general rule, he wished to avoid Cora and Emma together in the same sentence, let alone the same room.

"Your definition of interesting is surprisingly dull considering you lived in Wonderland."

The door handle rattled and there came the dull thud of a body pushing its weight against the door. Hook glanced at Cora, silently imploring her to leave.

"Hook?"

Emma's voice rang clearly through the door. Hook wondered if the concern he heard in her voice was just wishful thinking on his part.

"You risk so much for a woman who won't even call you by your first name." Rather than her usual scorn, Cora's voice carried a soft bemusement.

Her expression remained in Hook's mind even once the Queen of Hearts had vanished in another billow of purple smoke. The door clicked open of its own accord and Emma, mid door slam, almost stumbled in.

Hook wished he could say something, anything, to allay the suspicion that ignited in her eyes the moment she realized he was healed. He needed more time to think of a plausible explanation, preferably one that didn't detail his involvement with Cora. Quick on his feet though he was, he could not see a way out of this without some degree of truth-telling.

Emma hovered near the door. She dragged her gaze up from Hook's ankle to his face although, much to Hook's dismay, there was nothing lascivious in her expression.

He cut off the first of many questions that formed about her lips with a halfway-sheepish,

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"That you can miraculously walk again?" Emma's words were a valiant attempt at light, but Hook could see a fearful uncertainty in her eyes that she would never voice. "Not really something I could miss."

He was losing her. Whatever undefined thing lay between them was not enough to conquer the fact that she still could not bring herself to trust him, and in a few moments she would be gone completely.

Perhaps it was that thought that pushed Hook forwards; if he was to lose her anyway, he had nothing left to lose. He crossed the room to stand before her, taking a precious moment to memorize her beauty. She was so afraid of being hurt, he could see it in her eyes, and he hated that he might be the one to do so. He lingered for a moment, close enough to breathe in her scent, even now giving her the option of turning away. The only move she made was closer to him and, encouraged, his gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth.

For a moment, he hardly dared to breathe.

When the soft warmth of her lips met with his own, Hook found his hand tangling in Emma's hair. She consumed him, filled his every sense, yet he still wasn't satisfied. He had done this a thousand times before with a thousand different women and in that moment, he would have traded all of them for one more day with Emma.

Still, it was not what a first kiss should be. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't shy, and it certainly didn't subtly hint at what would happen the moment they broke apart. If anything, their first kiss was a goodbye kiss, with the desperation and anger that came with the knowledge that all was lost.

Emma was the one to break the kiss, as Hook had known she would be. She kept her eyes closed even as she drew away, trying to hold onto the moment that would soon be nothing more than a memory.

"Hook," she said, her low voice both reproachful and apprehensive, "what did you do?"

She opened her eyes, revealing the determination within. She would have her answers, even though they would ruin everything. Hook hated her obsession with the truth.

_You risk so much for a woman who won__'__t even call you by your first name._

"Killian," he said, matching her quietness. Given their proximity, it seemed a very important point to get across. He watched in something akin to despair as Emma widened the distance between them. "Call me Killian. Please."

Captain Hook, legendary pirate, begging a woman to use his real name. He was an embarrassment to his own reputation.

"What did you do?" Emma repeated, eschewing addressing him at all.

"I made a deal."

"With Rumplestiltskin?"

The confusion in her voice cut into Hook. She thought that he would sooner make a deal with the Crocodile before ever turning to the woman she so desperately feared.

"No," he said. Then, with great reluctance, he added, "With Cora."

With those words, Hook watched as Emma built up the walls he had been systematically knocking down ever since she first visited him in the hospital. He hadn't thought it would affect him quite as much as it did, to see all of his painstaking effort so easily undone. And now, she would never trust him again.

A brief flicker of pain, betrayal and hurt passed over her face and then it was over. The mask of annoyance and authority she always kept close by was pulled back on, now with the added features of suspicion and anger.

"Why would you do that?"

Hook would not beg for her understanding, not now that he knew it would have no effect. Enlisting Cora's help had been a means to an end, and one day Emma would see that.

"I told you that my plan remained as ever: kill the Crocodile. It was proving difficult to achieve from a hospital bed, so I made other arrangements." As Emma shook her head and looked away, Hook fought the impulse to grab her by the shoulders and force her to listen to him, to understand his motives. "If I accomplish this, you won't have to leave town with him."

"How did you-?" Emma breathed a soft, _should've known_ sigh. "Right. You and Cora are already swapping town gossip. I heard that the butcher is having an affair, if that interests you."

She looked at him with the same hard glint in her eyes that had been present when she held a knife to his throat. Back then, Hook hadn't particularly cared whether she liked him or not. She didn't factor into his plans, let alone his thoughts and feelings. To be looked at like that now, after everything, was gut wrenching.

"I don't think you quite grasp the situation we're in, sweetheart." He could tell that his attempt to hide his worry with a sneer didn't quite click with Emma and so he changed tack to a beguiling, vaguely threatening approach. "All your bravery counts for nothing when you're up against people as powerful as Cora and the Crocodile. They can kill you in less than the time it takes for you to beg them to reconsider." The automatic vision of Milah's dying moments flashed into his mind and he shook his head. "The only thing we can do is pledge our allegiances and just pray that we hitched our horse to the right wagon."

Emma's expression didn't change.

"Sounds like you're the schoolyard kid making friends with the bully so he won't pick on him."

Hook's jaw tightened. He would not be called coward by anyone.

"There's nothing wrong with aligning yourself with power."

"So you would rather join Cora than fight against her?"

"Think who you're talking to, Emma!" His frustration vented itself in a snap that Emma had to visibly stop herself recoiling from. Loath at the thought of frightening someone he cared for, Hook took the concerted effort of maintaining an even tone. "I'm not a good man. I don't support the underdog and I won't protect the innocent unless it benefits me. I'm a pirate, I care only for me and mine."

He didn't sound proud. He _wasn't_ proud. It was a role he had resigned himself to; it was the only way he knew how to win, how to stay alive. He didn't mention that "me and mine" currently consisted only of himself and, if she would only let him, Emma.

She looked at him with such anger and thinly-veiled disappointment that Hook briefly wondered if there was anything in the world he would not do to take back the deal with Cora. He had thought that any price for killing the Crocodile would be justified once he had the demon's head.

_No. It _is _justified_, he told himself sharply. No room for second-guessing himself now that he was on the precipice of victory. He would free himself from the obligation of revenge and save Emma in one fell swoop, whether she liked it or not.

He made to brush past Emma but her voice, earnest and intense, gave him pause.

"The only person stopping you from being a good man is yourself. You don't get to give me any of that crap about being heartless because I've seen for myself that it isn't true. It's just some damn defense mechanism that you hide behind."

Whether it was her intention or not, Hook felt attacked. He let his "damn defense mechanism" slip over him, felt as it darkened his eyes and lifted the corner of his lips.

"Let's talk about defense mechanisms, shall we? Truly, yours is one of the most elaborately constructed I have ever come across. And yet you pledge allegiance to _Rumplestiltskin _of all creatures and agree to accompany him on a quest. Stunning lack of judgement there, darling."

Emma was momentarily taken aback by the change in topic but quickly recovered herself with a scornful frown.

"I didn't _pledge_ anything. He called in a favor that I owed him, that's all." Hook could see the fear she was trying so hard to hide. "He threatened the people I care about. I agreed so I could protect - the town."

The catch in her voice didn't go unnoticed and Hook was willing to bet that the original end to that sentence had been something quite different. It just made him all the more determined to rescue her from the Crocodile in the way he had not managed to save Milah. Hook would not let the demon take only other woman he had ever cared for.

"You won't have to go at all," he promised, leaning in towards her so she could see his determination. "Dead men cannot cash in favors."

He expected further argument - perhaps, in his more wilder hopes, another kiss - but Emma had said her piece. Her eyes burned into his, cautioning and pleading at the same time. Looking into them, he realized that he would die for those eyes. Right now, he would have to settle for killing for them.

Hook swept out of the room, feeling a savage satisfaction that, for once, he was not the one left behind.


	7. Chapter Seven

******Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

* * *

**A/N: A lot of switching of POVs in the same scene here, so first off I apologise for that. Secondly I apologise for the delay in updating, I've been ill (pause for sympathy). Thank you so much for your reviews/favourites/follows, they've really made me smile. We're coming towards the end of _Damage Control_, mainly because this was only ever meant to be a "Hook in the hospital" fic and I don't want to branch away from that. There will be this chapter and an epilogue and then we will be done. Good news (?) is that there's another story in the works whose first chapter will hopefully be posted sometime in the next week. Thank you for sticking with me and enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Gods, how Killian had missed this.

His name and reputation carried great weight but it could only precede him to a certain point. When the infamous Captain Hook had been relegated to a sickbed, bruised and broken and dressed in a most unflattering hospital gown, he had been regarded as little more than a cabin boy. The doctors and nurses were brief and businesslike in their interactions with him. They had barely even glanced at him, let alone show the fear and respect he was used to. Only Emma had treated him like he was still any kind of threat.

Well, no more. Now he was back to full health, in full battle wear and with the full arrogance that they afforded. He strode through the hospital corridors, feeling a grim satisfaction every time someone stopped to stare or backed away with their eyes averted. Even though many of them had never met him before, they all knew that he was not a man to be crossed.

Power was something you gave to someone else, and right now Killian was the most powerful man in the building.

Discounting the fact that it took him three tries to find the exit (he just continued walking around menacingly to disguise the fact that he was so bloody lost) Killian was feeling pretty damn confident about being back on his feet. The moment his feet hit the pavement outside he set off at a brisk walk with no particular destination in mind. For a minute or so he just enjoyed the freedom of being able to move again. Then reality set in - as it so often prone to do - and he realised that some form of plan may be prudent. He should avoid the busier parts of town (although this was Storybrooke, where more than four cars on the road at any given time constituted a mad rush) so as to decrease the chances of running into the Crocodile. Cars would be another thing to avoid as much as possible.

With something akin to a homing instinct, Killian made his way to the docks. If Cora didn't intend to complete her little disappear-reappear act then he would just have to make sure she knew where to find him. This was easier said than done, and there was much useless wandering before he found somewhere he recognized in relation to the docks.

The sea air called to him, rousing rebellion in his blood. Each step away from land was a step closer to home. He hoped that the Jolly Roger was where he had left it, but the whole 'invisible' aspect made it impossible to tell until he could tread the steps up to the deck.

A quick glance around assured him he was alone and, after a moment of awkwardly tapping the air with his foot, he found the first step. With a slight smirk at the idea of someone passing by and seeing him balancing on what appeared to be thin air, he ascended and stepped onto his beloved ship.

He knew something was wrong before he even saw the Crocodile waiting for him on deck. The ship objected to the demon's presence as much as she knew her Captain would, and though Killian tried not to form lasting attachments he would always have a bond with his vessel. The injustice of Milah's death was as firmly ingrained into the Jolly Roger as it was into Killian.

Rumplestiltskin's feet were planted firmly apart and gloved fingers held a tight grip on his cane. Killian remembered the feeling of being smacked into near unconsciousness by that cane and had no desire to repeat it. Still, he barely broke stride towards the demon and stopped mere feet in front of him. There was no room for fear, not when the dagger was within reach, not he was so close to _finally_ killing him. He just needed to distract Rumplestiltskin for a few hours more.

"I don't allow cowards on my ship," Killian said, staring the monster down. His human face was a façade but it seemed like Killian was the only one who realized it.

"What a coincidence," the Crocodile said, his steely tone matching the hardness in his eyes. "I don't allow pirates in my town. One of us is going to have to make a concession, and I can promise you that it won't be me."

"Things are changing," Killian told him with no small hint of derisiveness. His environment and his ship were making him bolder by the second. "This won't be _your_ town for much longer."

A twitch of the demon's lips betrayed his disbelief.

"Perhaps I would be concerned if you could stop being defeated long enough to pose an actual threat, but as things stand you are barely on my radar."

Killian bristled. He demanded nothing from the Crocodile except his death but he would not tolerate being brushed carelessly aside after centuries of enmity.

"And yet," he pointed out, "here you are."

"And yet, here I am," Rumplestiltskin agreed gravely, all traces of a smile gone. "Inconsequential as you may be in the grand scheme of things, you harmed the woman I love."

"Harmed her?" Killian's scorn twisted his expression. "I did her a _favor_. Now she can build a new life, free from you and your poison. You should ask yourself what you're doing wrong that I have to keep liberating the women you love."

The Crocodile snarled, showing off teeth that would make his namesake proud. Killian wasn't afraid. Even if he was struck down in the next few moments - which seemed increasingly likely with every provocation - he would not show fear. He would accept death with open arms. There was just that one niggling regret that he would never see Emma again.

* * *

Emma had let Killian walk out of the hospital room without any attempt to stop him. Once alone, she closed her eyes and released a heavy breath. She wasn't asking for her life to be simple. Simple was boring. But if her life could be just a little _less_ difficult then that would be fantastic.

She opened her eyes and brushed a finger against her lips. The kiss had been both unexpected and inevitable. It had happened because that had been the only response to their situation, the only way they could speak to each other without actually voicing anything. In that sense, it had been ideal. A kiss that accompanied a long string of suggestive comments and flirtations would have seemed cheap after the days they had spent together. Emma had kissed Killian because she wanted to, not because she had been momentarily seduced into it.

Killian - since when was referring to him by his given name? And why, just because he had asked her to? Because he wanted to make sure she knew she the difference between Captain Hook and Killian Jones? That was simple, she had always known. Killian was the man she had truly met - and abandoned - on the beanstalk. Captain Hook was the one who taunted her and left in Rumplestiltskin's cell in revenge. They weren't two separate men, as he seemed to believe; they were the two sides of himself.

Emma tried to tell herself that it didn't matter. If Killian or Hook or whoever he was wanted to go on a suicide mission after Gold, then that was none of her concern. She had said all she was going to say and it hadn't been enough to change his mind. Stubborn pirate. Whatever happened to him would be his own fault. She didn't owe him anything.

But then, there were so many reasons that she should go after him. Moral reasons, logical reasons, totally separated from emotion. She was Sheriff, for one, which meant that she couldn't just let one of her citizens kill another. When Gold killed Killian (Emma was under no illusion that another altercation between them would end any other way) that would anger Cora, whose ensuing grudge would probably level Storybrooke. All in all, it was best that Emma went after Killian and tried to stop him from doing anything else monumentally stupid.

In the midst of the practical reasons was a small, emotionally driven admission: _I don't like the thought of a world without him_. It was ridiculous that those handful of words had more of a motivating effect than the logical list Emma had drawn up.

"Damn it," she muttered, striding out of the room.

She wasn't sure if she was cursing Killian or herself.

* * *

_Well,_ Killian mused as the Crocodile's cane pressed against his windpipe, _that happened quicker than expected._

Of course the bastard would use magic. He had no sense of honor or courage, much less any idea of a moral code. Bound at an awkward angle to the bottom of the mast by ropes from his own ship (the irony was painful), it was all Killian could do to goad his would-be killer.

"How would your darling Belle react if she knew you were doing this?" he choked out. "Hmm?"

"You don't get to speak her name," Rumplestiltskin spat, pressing down harder. "She was _decent_ and _pure_ and a better person than either of us could ever hope to be. And _you_ took her light away."

Killian had only ever regarded Belle as collateral damage in his quest to hurt Milah's killer and he was not about to change his opinion now. Though knowledge of the Crocodile's pain would be a good companion in his dying moments, he still some fight left and struggled against his binds.

"Not into fighting fair, are you?" Killian sneered as best he could as the ropes held fast. "Let's see how brave you are when faced with your dagger!"

The demon's snarling mask slipped for a moment into bewilderment and fear. By the time he had regained himself, Killian had already armed himself with the confirmation that the dagger spelled the end of Rumplestiltskin. It didn't occur to him that he should perhaps stay quiet about soon possessing the only manner in which to kill his foe; he finally had some power over his enemy and he would not let it go without boasting about it.

"That's right, Crocodile. Not so infallible after-"

The words dried into rasps as he struggled for breath.

"What do you know of my dagger?" Rumplestiltskin asked, pressing down on Killian's throat.

Killian pushed against the Crocodile's chest but he was too weak, too damned helpless, for it to have any effect. His lungs began to burn and, little by little, his vision was overcome by black. A disappointing way to die, he decided. Without purpose or honor. At least he had kissed Emma before he-

A sharp click barely registered in Killian's ears and then, fainter still, the voice of his salvation.

"Let him go, Gold."

Emma.

_Emma? _His relief quickly gave way to panic. She shouldn't be here, not with the Crocodile. It was too dangerous; Killian would risk his own life a thousand times over, but never hers.

Under Emma's watchful eye, the Crocodile slowly stepped away. After a moment that lasted longer than all his years in Neverland, Killian could breathe again. He coughed and spluttered as he fought for breath, his throat achingly tender. He sought her out as soon as he could. Any satisfaction he may have felt at seeing a gun pressed to the Crocodile's temple was marred by fear.

"Emma, get back!"

He pushed himself as hard as he could to release the words, knowing that Emma's safety was more important than his pain. And oh, how it hurt.

Emma took her eyes off Gold for a split second to check on Killian. There was panic, wild and pure, in his eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. Through her own fear, Emma was furious that he seemed concerned only for her safety and not remotely alarmed by his own close proximity to death. He had no sense self-preservation and it would make it damn difficult to keep him alive. She fixed her attention back on Gold.

"You said if I went with you, you wouldn't kill him."

Gold's smile was a bitter imitation of pleasant which was ruined by the rest of his twitching, furious face.

"Actually, dearie, I said no such thing. I told you that every day I was here was a day closer to killing him, and it looks like that day has finally arrived."

Emma maintained her composure, all the while trying to think of a deal she could make to secure their safety. They were beyond simple reasoning at this point; she had to speak in terms that she knew Gold would respond to.

"You really want to risk it with a gun pointed at your head?" she asked, hoping threats would buy enough time to think of something clever. From the corner of her eye she saw Killian struggle to his feet and hoped he would have more sense than to make a sudden movement.

"I could rip out your heart in half the time it would take to pull the trigger," Gold said, and Emma tried hard not to shudder at his voice. Only a hint of malice underscored his flat, factual tone. She noticed Killian look away, his fingers clenched against the mast he was using as support.

"Come on, you're better than this," she tried again, turning back to Gold.

Gold scoffed. "I'm really not." Just like Emma, he tried changing tack in order to get his way. "This doesn't concern you, dearie. I suggest you leave before your blood stains the ship, too."

The threat spurred Killian into action. He would not allow the Crocodile to disgrace Milah's memory by threatening another with the same fate, especially not someone Killian cared about. He ignored the lingering pain and pushed himself off from the mast, straightening up and immersing himself in his Captain Hook persona. He knew that they had reached a stalemate: Emma would not lower her gun and Rumplestiltskin would not let them leave. He would just have to shift the situation into a favorable light. For his various faults, he was at least good at that.

"I'll make you a deal, Crocodile," Killian said, sauntering over to where Emma stood. He pieced his arrogance back together and wore it like a top layer of armor to cover his frantically beating heart. "The location of the dagger for our lives."

The offer rested in the air for a moment. Though Emma didn't understand it, something unspoken passed between the men, a shared recollection that twisted Gold's lips.

"Seems familiar, doesn't it?" he asked, dark malice at the forefront now. "Bargaining with something I need in return for the safety of yourself and your lady love. Well, don't worry. We make this deal and Miss. Swan's heart is safe. From me, at least."

Killian tensed. He was as unpredictable as his opponent and Emma feared what would happen if he was to lunge forwards. She placed her free arm on the sleeve of his coat, squeezing the leather in between her fingertips in a firm and reassuring grip. Killian snapped his head down to her hand and it took him a full three seconds to understand what was happening. His head lifted slowly back up and when his eyes met Emma's, the furious storm in them calmed.

_Keep your cool_, Emma advised silently. She knew Killian would understand; he could always read her so well. With an almost imperceptible nod, he turned back to face his Crocodile.

"I will tell you who has the dagger and then you will leave my ship," Killian said, emboldened. "And if I find you on my ship again-"

"Don't confuse a narrow escape with victory," Gold interrupted, and though his voice was level there was a spark in his eyes that, should it be detonated, would enrage him again. "The deal will be the location of the dagger for your lives today. We have unfinished scores," he told the pirate, before adding to Emma, "and _you_ are still indebted to me. I will not grant either of you eternal immunity."

Killian's jaw tightened but he nodded. "Understood."

For a moment, despite everything, Emma didn't believe that Killian would reveal the location and forfeit what seemed to be his one chance for revenge. He was the supposedly ruthless Captain Hook and his goal was finally within his reach. Why would he give it all away to secure her life?

"Regina has the dagger," Killian said, without a hint towards his sacrifice.

"There's a chamber underneath her father's crypt," Emma jumped in, helping with the knowledge she had gleaned from David. She lowered the gun but did not put it away. "She'll be in there."

Gold's long, calculated look didn't seem to detect a lie from either of them.

"And if she isn't?" he asked, torn between disbelief and reluctant trust.

Emma shrugged. "Start checking the local motels."

Gold's smile held no mirth. "I'll be sure to. In the meantime, I believe we'll be having a chat to discuss your exciting new alliance with Hook."

"Worry about yourself first," Emma advised, shaking off his thinly-veiled threat. "You're not as invincible as you seem."

Gold's soft scoff was nearly lost in the breeze. He looked slowly, deliberately, between the pair in front of him.

"Yes, well it seems we all have our weaknesses." He limped up to them, the thud of his cane echoing hollowly on the deck. Killian tensed again, particularly when his Crocodile focused attention on him. "If I find you have lied to me, pirate, I will rip out your lungs." Gold nodded at Emma as he passed with a mockingly cordial, "Miss. Swan."

Killian and Emma watched Gold go, both fully expecting him to change his mind at any moment and turn back. The slow tap of his cane on the docks faded and, after what seemed like an eternity, Emma could breathe again. She holstered her gun with slightly trembling hands, unsure of what to do with all of the adrenaline that came with narrowly escaping death.

No, wait, she was pretty sure she knew what she wanted to do.

Killian barely had time to block her punch. He used her momentum against her, grabbing her wrist and swinging her round until her back collided with his stomach. He secured her in place with an arm across her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her rapid, angry breaths.

"I just saved your life, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, confusion lending a harsh edge to his voice. "I can think of several ways you could repay me, none of which include your fist in my face."

He held her for one more moment, enjoying the closeness she may never reward him with, and then released her. She rounded on him, as fierce as a lioness.

"What the _hell_?" she demanded.

Her eyes were on fire with the anger Killian hadn't seen from her since their fight at the side of the lake back in the Enchanted Forest. It gave her beauty an edge and he was utterly mesmerized for a moment before he remembered how confusing the situation was.

"Again, shouting at me is not on the list of acceptable ways to show your thanks," he said, a bite in his attempted casual tone. "If I had known it would upset you so much I may have been more reluctant to trade everything I have worked towards."

It was a lie. Even if given one hundred opportunities at the deal, he would ensure her safety each and every time.

"If you hadn't gone after him in the first place, you wouldn't have had to bargain anything away!" She glared at him for a few moments before looking away. After a deep, calming breath that didn't actually accomplish anything, she faced him again. "He would have killed you. You get that, right?"

Killian noted her agitation with extreme interest.

"I do have to question why you're so very determined to keep me alive. And please," he added before Emma could reply, "none of this 'I'm the Sheriff' business."

It took her awhile to reply. Killian knew she was wrestling with herself, he could see it in those beautiful, conflicted eyes of hers. She thought that admitting the truth would make her weak and give him the upper hand in a game he was no longer playing. But he wouldn't push her; whatever she felt (and he knew she felt something) she would have to acknowledge on her own. It was frustrating but it was the way it had to be.

Emma knew what he wanted. She knew the exact words to say that would coax a smile from him. The strangest thing was, those words wouldn't be a lie. Although the feelings were beginning to take shape, she wasn't ready to voice them.

"I want you around," she said, lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug.

"Should've stopped after the first three words," Killian said, but he smiled. It was better than nothing and _definitely_ better than her initial violent reaction.

When she smiled back at him, he felt a previously-unacknowledged weight lift from his chest. He had saved her. From the Crocodile, no less. And yes, his revenge plan lay in tatters and Cora would be _furious_ that he not only avoided whatever trap she had probably set for him but that he had sold her out to Rumplestiltskin, but Emma was safe. That made it all worth it.

For her part, Emma was trying her hardest not to think of the consequences of this latest clash with Gold. It seemed as though their deal for Emma to help find his son still stood, although what an awkward trip _that_ would be. The list of things to worry about was growing daily, and she still couldn't quite grasp that Killian was now someone to worry for and not about. She shook her head and a soft, tired sigh escaped her lips.

"What?" Killian asked, scanning her features in his customary attempt at reading her.

Emma shook her head, saving him the trouble. "I need a drink."

"Ah." He relaxed. That was a problem simply dealt with. "Well, lucky for you, you're on a pirate ship. Finest damn pirate ship of them all, I might add. Sure we can find something."

"Make it strong," was Emma's only request, much to Killian's derision.

"My measures range from head-splitting to waking-up-blind. For civilians, at least." He glanced at her with unspoken challenge. "We pirates are a little more resilient."

_You'd make a hell of a pirate_.

Emma raised an eyebrow, accepting the dare. "You going to stand there, or you going to drink?"

Killian grinned.


	8. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis.**

* * *

Emma knocked back the first dram of rum with barely a change of expression. Impressed, Killian poured her another measure. He stopped before the amber liquid got too high, although he was more generous than usual.

"Don't have to prove anything to me, love," he said as he handed her glass tumbler back to her, downplaying the difficulties of doing things with only one hand.

Emma drained the second drink quicker than the first and Killian shook his head, amused.

"Take it you're skipping the toast?" He raised his own glass. "To your health."

He drank with the practiced ease of a pirate, albeit one more used to drinking straight from the bottle. The unusual practice didn't escape Emma's notice.

"What's next, silver cutlery and wine glasses?" she asked, her smile taking away the venom from her words.

"We know how to treat visitors on this ship," Killian said with an unapologetic shrug. "There was a Governor here once who complimented the craftsmanship of the glasswork…although he wasn't 'visiting' so much as 'trussed up in the brig'."

Emma decided that she did not want to know the story (although a small part of her did) and wandered over to the side of the ship. From the deck to the sails, everything was immaculate; just like her Captain, the ship was nothing like Emma expected. Footsteps told her Killian had followed her, clinking told her he had brought the rum with him. He came to a stop beside her and handed her the bottle, hardly taking his eyes off her as he leaned his back against the ship. He might have intended to dispense with the formalities but Emma still poured a measure out into her glass and then, after the slightest of pauses, into his own.

The rum went down smoother this time, one sip at a time. Emma pretended it was the alcohol that loosened her tongue and not her own curiosity.

"Why did you make a deal with Gold to save me?"

Killian was quiet for so long that Emma wondered if she should repeat the question or, in what would probably be a wiser course, pretend she had never said anything to begin with. Just as she was about to comment on something banal ("what lovely planks of wood your ship has") Killian spoke.

"Doing inadvisable things in the name of affection has become something of a calling card for me." There was a bitter edge to his grin that faded after another swig of rum. "Although I believe I heard you mention that I was a factor in your deal with the Crocodile."

Emma took a drink of her own as she considered her answer. The rum was beginning to burn her throat but the aftertaste was not unpleasant. Still, it was probably inadvisable to allow Captain Hook - or any pirate - to determine her measures.

"I had this stupid notion that I could keep you safe," she admitted, setting aside her glass to rest her forearms on the edge of the ship. Although the daylight had all but faded, she leaned forwards to try and watch the water below. "Gold said he would kill you if he stayed in town."

"And you didn't want that."

It was almost, but not quite, a question. Rather, it was an uncertain request for a confirmation that he hardly dared to seek. With the clarity that alcohol afforded, Emma realized that though Killian had spent centuries avenging his lost love, he did not have faith that he could be cared for in return. It was both sad and achingly familiar.

"No," Emma confirmed for him. She glanced up and met his eyes, determined to show him that she was sincere. "I didn't want that."

Killian nodded, almost to himself. A moment of naked vulnerability, of confusion and hope, was swiftly masked with a grin.

"So, my actively seeking out the Crocodile was quite the damper on your heroic sacrifice."

"You almost screwed everything up," Emma said with only a hint of reproach. The rum was making it difficult to be angry with him.

"Another of my calling cards."

They drank in sympathetic unison. Even with the boat stationary in the docks, Emma could imagine the freedom that came with the open seas. No responsibilities but ensuring the ship ran smoothly, no loyalties except to a small select crew, no duties except to her own pleasure. The mere thought was as intoxicating as the rum.

"You don't have to go with him."

Emma looked up, surprised at his hasty spill of words. Though the sentence had seemed to fall unbidden out of Killian's lips, the determination set in his face told her that the sentiment was sincere. Her soft sigh only encouraged him further.

"Stay here," he insisted, standing up straight. "I'll protect you."

His loyalty, so fickle in the Enchanted Forest where he had been a mercenary to his own revenge, was now fierce. Emma had no doubt that, if she let him, Killian would die trying to save her from Gold. She didn't understand why, but then hadn't she been willing to go to extreme lengths to keep him safe that same day? They had a connection that she was willing to defend, that much was clear, buy she was not willing to let him risk his own safety to try and save her from an unconquerable foe.

"You can't protect me," Emma said, as gently as she could. She wasn't issuing a challenge and needed Killian to understand that. "The only way of making sure that Gold doesn't hurt me is to honor the deal I made with him."

A thousand plans flitted through Killian's eyes, each undoubtedly as insane as the last. Finally, he shook his head and turned to face her. Worry and frustration tightened his features.

"I don't want you to go," he said. It was a simple truth, spoken with conviction as though their wishes had any impact in what was fated.

"I know." Emma poured herself a final shot before corking the bottle back up. "But I have to."

Killian watched as she threw the rum back without so much as a grimace. Her tolerance impressed him, made him all the more determined to keep her alive so that one day they could have a drinking contest worthy of the disreputable taverns he had left behind.

"When do you leave?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know."

Instead of further attempts at arguments, he moved to stand in front of her. She looked up at him, her lips lifting slightly when she realized what he intended. The stood toe to toe, but Killian would not give away his affection so easily this time.

"Well," he murmured, angling his lips over hers and keeping them tantalisingly close, "we have tonight."

Emma tried to keep her head about her and not lost in the scent of rum and leather and freedom. She lost any anchor to common sense when his lips lowered onto her own. The kiss was less frantic as the first had been; there was a sense of enjoyment, of languid exploration. Emma came so close to losing herself in the moment that she was perfectly willing to ignore the tension and the fear in Killian's tight grip around her waist. He was afraid to let go, and that was exactly why she had to break the kiss.

"We have the next few minutes," she corrected a little breathlessly, her eyes lingering downwards just long enough to catch the disgruntled quirk to Killian's lips.

"Have a little more faith in me than that, love."

Emma smirked but managed to hold back laughter. What little she knew of romance, she knew it was best to avoid laughing in a potential suitor's face. Even if said suitor's face was currently as petulant as a toddler from an imagined slight.

"I meant that I should be going soon," she told him, amused at the fragility of his ego. "I need to check in on Henry."

Killian looked willing to argue his case but ultimately decided against it.

"Fine," he said, allowing himself one last glance at her lips before stepping away. "But for reference, we could have had _all night_."

He wasn't even trying for subtlety. It roused a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation in Emma.

"Next time, I'll clear my schedule," she told him as she made her way over to the steps. Though she would never admit it, she was only half-joking.

* * *

Killian insisted on walking her home. Emma had almost forgotten about the bizarre code of chivalry he lived by, but he made it clear he would not be moved on the matter. She accepted, thinking that at the very least she could ensure he didn't run off with some half-formed plan that would land them in even more trouble.

The night was beginning to deepen. The streets were empty but for shadows and buildings, and even these seemed threatening. Though the pair travelled through the town with their usual confident gait, their footsteps were quicker than they would have been normally. There were too many enemies for them to simply stroll, yet these enemies were not so feared that they had to break into a run. Besides, their pride would not have allowed it. They made it through the town with no trouble, although Emma's adrenaline was primed and ready for attack.

"I'll send word if there's any news," she said as they began to climb the steps to her apartment.

Killian had barely spoken on their journey and even now only looked around with mild curiosity. Although it would be the polite thing to do, Emma did not invite him in. She needed time to explain to Mary Margaret and David about her ever-changing relationship with the pirate Captain; just springing him on them would not be the best of starts.

Emma looked down, about to initiate the awkward goodbye they both knew was coming, when it occurred to her that there was a way to show her thanks and blossoming trust.

"Wait there," she told him, and closed the door rather abruptly in is face.

Killian wasn't affronted; he was used to Emma's standoffish ways and would tolerate them in a way he would not indulge with anyone else. He glanced around the corridor, idly wondering what he would say if someone - probably Emma's parents, knowing his luck - happened to stumble across him. It looked suspicious enough to be standing outside someone's apartment, but add in his reputation and there might be trouble. He couldn't pretend he didn't slightly relish the thought of a fight.

When the door opened again, Killian had to resist peeking past Emma and into her home. He wanted to discover everything he could about her, to see how deep their similarities went and how their differences could be bridged. But she was clearly not about to welcome him into the apartment (_yet_, the hopeful part of Killian added) and so he gave up on the idea.

"Don't say I never give you anything," Emma said, holding out his hook.

"It balances out the fact that you took it in the first place," Killian replied, though his eagerness to be reunited with his replacement hand softened his tone into a light teasing.

He fastened the hook and clicked it back into place. As familiar as the sound was, he had missed it in the last few days. He held the hook up into the artificial glow of the overhead light, admiring the glint of the metal and the heaviness it added to his arm. He was about to comment when he caught sight of Emma's expression. She regarded the hook warily, as though it had the power to change the man in front of her from Killian Jones to Captain Hook. There was more to the man than his attachments, although it was a conversation better left for another time. Killian lowered the hook until it rested at his side.

"Thank you," he said, his gratitude not only for the return of the hook but for what it represented. Emma's trust, while perhaps still not absolute, was well on its way. He would prove himself worthy of the faith she had in him.

Emma only nodded. Seeing man and hook together again reminded her how much more dangerous Killian was with his hook attached. She could only hope that she had not made a huge mistake it returning it to him.

"You be alright getting back to your ship?" she asked, voicing a different set of concerns.

"Odds aren't really in my favor," he answered with a careless shrug.

"When are they ever?" Emma smiled distantly, knowing that it wouldn't stop him. "Pirate."

Killian placed his hand against the door frame just above Emma's head and leaned in towards her. The invasion of personal space made Emma's heart beat that little bit faster, although she made sure her face remained impassive.

"Ladies in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," Killian advised, though he wasn't insulted by her label. There was a gleam in his eye that told of his enjoyment.

"I'm not a pirate," Emma said, standing her ground.

"No." Killian stole a quick kiss and then moved away, mischief further lighting up the gleam. Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way down the stairs. "Not just yet. Goodnight, Emma."

Emma watched him go, torn between amusement and indignation. His lips had been light on hers for the briefest of moments, really more a tease than a kiss, but it had held none of the darkness or fear of their previous embraces. It was…Emma would almost have called it sweet, if it had been shared between two other people. As it stood, the Savior and the pirate Captain had no business being sweet with each other. Maybe once all of this was over, when they could just be Emma and Killian, maybe then there would be room for normalcy.

Emma smiled to herself as she closed the door and locked it behind her. As promises went, it was an enticing one. Endure the next few days and at the end of it was a chance at happiness.

* * *

The next morning, Emma was gone.

The news spread quickly through the small town and was such a source of gossip that Hook was barely off the ship before he overheard the news. It saved him the walk to Emma's apartment, although the news brought with it a consuming determination to bring her back. All that mattered was her safety, and despite what she thought, that definitely was not assured just because she complied with the Crocodile.

The Storybrooke citizens shared their thoughts as though they were at all relevant, as though they understood Emma's bravery and sacrifice. Killian wanted to sit them all down and list the reasons they should admire their Sheriff as much as he did, but there wasn't time.

He strode back onto the Jolly Roger and straight over to the helm. His was the fastest ship in all the realms and had more than a little magic in her. Killian didn't know if this would be enough to find Emma in the new land she had travelled to with her son and the Crocodile but the ship had always anticipated his wishes before. She was already sailing before Killian had voiced where he wanted to go.

"Not exactly white knight and shining steed, are we?" he muttered to his ship as he flicked open his compass and angled it. He was not conventional, but then neither was Emma. His damsel in distress was more than likely to pull a knife on him, his tower was a concrete jungle and his dragon was a Crocodile. Not exactly the stuff fairytales are made of. "This'll be one for your storybook, lad," he promised Emma's absent son, looking out onto the horizon with a slight smile.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I'll let the show take its course from here on out. Hopefully tonight's episode ("The Queen is Dead") will give us some Captain Swan to feed off! Thank you for your reviews/favourites/follows, you have been amazingly supportive. Not that this should influence you in any way, but today is my birthday and one last review would be a wonderful gift (: Until next time, darlings.**

**- Momo**


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